


Timeless II

by staylovely



Series: Timeless [2]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Angst, Confessions, Cute, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Established Relationship, Falling In Love, Flirting, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gryffindor!Jongho, Gryffindor!Wooyoung, Hufflepuff!Hongjoong, Hufflepuff!Yunho, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Love, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Mystery, No Smut, Pining, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Ravenclaw!Seonghwa, Ravenclaw!Yeosang, Relationship(s), Romance, Slytherin!Mingi, Slytherin!San, Soft With A Hint Of Spice, Suspense, Swearing, Sweet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:13:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 37,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27955961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staylovely/pseuds/staylovely
Summary: BOOK II: Minutes of TranquilityWooyoung and his friend group may have escaped the claws of death, but that doesn’t mean he can just go back and pretend nothing ever happened. Beyond the prophecy, Wooyoung’s newfound Legilimency powers, as well as horrible nightmares, he and San have to find a way to tackle the remaining mysteries that involve not only Headmistress Park and a new Divination teacher but also the Ministry of Magic and, of course, the New Lord. How will Wooyoung balance all of that with classes, relationship drama in the friend group, and mysterious death threats on the menu? And how will San face the most crucial decision when all of his friends’ lives are at stake?NOTE: This is the second part of a trilogy. 'Timeless' should be read first!
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Kang Yeosang, Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Series: Timeless [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1665127
Comments: 20
Kudos: 33





	1. Wednesday, January 4th

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back ATINY!  
> I'm really excited to finally give you the first chapter of Timeless II! I really hope you enjoy it!
> 
> I decided to give you guys real-time updates this time, so it might take a while before you can have the following chapters because obviously I have to write them first. I hope you don't mind the wait! In the meantime, you're always welcome to leave comments or tell me on twitter (@vitaminjongho) to hurry the fuck up xD
> 
> Enjoy reading!

**Wednesday, January 4th. 02:08AM. Hogwarts, Headmistress’ Office. Park Yoonjeong.**

Headmistress Park heaved a sigh.

She set down her writing feather and granted her aching hand a brief moment of relaxation. The small wooden clock on her desk filled the air with its quiet ticking, as if it was a heartbeat at rest. It drowned between countless piles of letters and documents she still had to review, sort, and sign tonight. One glance at the ungodly hour it showed reminded her that she’d been working for too long once again.

Her son had offered to help her after dinner, but she’d sent him back to his dormitory dead on time for curfew, which had started over four hours ago. She hadn’t stopped working since. Even just a short break seemed like too much leisure for her to afford. Working was the one thing that kept her mind busy enough to prevent her from losing it. The mere thought of attempting to fall asleep when she knew her mind was going to torture her until dawn kept her determined to stay awake and focused.

And yet, she allowed herself to take a moment of rest. Just a moment.

Kneading her hand, she leaned back into her thrown-like armchair and stretched out her legs underneath the ancient desk. Her office had been engulfed by darkness. Even the moon that usually filtered through the old window to leave patterns of silver light on the stone floor was covered by thick clouds tonight. Nothing but a set of floating candles served to light up her working space. Two of them had already burned out, leaving left a faint smell of dried candle wax and smoke to linger in the room. At this hour, the castle was dead silent. The only sounds left to be heard in the office were the whispers of the flames crackling inside the fireplace and the quiet snores stemming from the dusty portraits of past headmasters.

A few moments of tiredly rubbing her temples later, Headmistress Park took a sip of her cold coffee and decided to keep working. Going through a few more letters and documents and taking them to the archive before going to bed wasn’t going to make a big difference now.

Just as she had finished pouring sealing wax next to her name written at the bottom of what felt like the twentieth ministry business-related letter she had written tonight, the flames in her fireplace suddenly turned emerald green and rose higher than before.

Headmistress Park startled and almost dropped her seal into the fresh wax when a man and a woman in black, hooded robes stepped out of the fire and into her office. They dusted off their robes and shoes before removing their hoods.

The hairs in the back of her neck stood as soon as she recognized them.

“Good to see you’re still awake, Headmistress,” the man she knew as Burton greeted her. He was a tall wizard with slicked back hair and a cunning grin on his lips. Something about his venom green eyes had always made Headmistress Park uncomfortable. “Working hard as always, I see.”

She sighed and glared at the intruders. “Burton, Kowalski. What business could you possibly have here?”

“How rude.” Burton tsked in fawned exasperation. “Show some kindness for your old classmates, will you?”

“What do you want?” the Headmistress bit out. The last thing she wanted to deal with in the middle of the night was that cooperation of lunatics.

“Fine, let’s cut right to the chase then. We have a little task for you.” This was Kowalski, the pale and slender woman with long blond hair next to him. She placed a rolled-up parchment on her desk. “Sign this.”

Headmistress Park eyed the document skeptically. She didn’t bother unrolling it, stubbornly crossing her arms. “What is this?”

“As you know, Professor Donovan hasn’t been teaching here since early December – for obvious reasons. We hear you still haven’t found a replacement,” Burton elaborated.

Headmistress Park narrowed her eyes at them. “That is because all of my applicants have mysteriously cancelled on short notice.”

Kowalski showed the same irritating grin as her companion. “Well, you are in luck, then. We have someone perfectly suitable for the job. He is of course one of us.” She gestured toward the parchment.

Headmistress Park didn’t budge. “I already told you. I’m not doing this anymore. Covering up Jung Wooyoung’s disappearance almost cost me my position. You won’t catch me risking it again. Now get out of my office.”

Burton tsked once more, his expression hardening. “You should know by now that it’s not that simple.” His casual façade had been replaced by one that was far more serious, threatening even. As if someone had turned a switch, the room temperature had dropped abruptly.

“No, I’ve done enough. I refuse to sign this, and I will no longer be a mindless puppet for your… your _cult_!” Headmistress Park grabbed the parchment and ripped it into pieces. She’d had enough of these people ordering her around.

Burton regarded the small pile of pieces and shook his head. A sly smirk played across his lips. “How naïve of you, Yoonjeong. I didn’t think you’d throw away your son’s life this easily.”

Headmistress Park’s eyes widened. “…What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that if you don’t want your son to meet the same unfortunate fate as your husband, you’d better keep doing as you’re told. You’re in no position to call the shots anymore.”

The room was spinning. This was all too familiar, like a dreadful deja vu. Panic began to flare up inside her bloodstream. “No… you can’t do that…”

Burton calmly put the document pieces back together with a flick of his wand. It evened itself out in front of her.

“Face it, Yoonjeong. You have no choice. You never did.” He stepped closer to her desk, so close that she could even pick up the acrid smell of blood surrounding him. His hauntingly green eyes bore into hers as he spoke. “You’re nothing but a meaningless tool in the greater scheme of the Cleanse.”

 _You disgust me_ , is what she would’ve said if her throat hadn’t closed up in terror.

His smell lingered even after he had retreated to put an arm around Kowalski’s shoulders.

“Vassily trusts you get this signed and on his desk by sunset tomorrow,” Kowalski added. “The new professor will arrive on Saturday.”

“Until we meet again,” said Burton before he threw the handful of Floo Powder he had gotten out of his chest pocket into the fireplace. He and Kowalski stepped back into the fire and disappeared in the high emerald green flames. The fire died down again, leaving Headmistress Park alone in her dark office once again.

Anxiety burned through her veins as she ran a hand through her dark hair. Her thoughts ran wild. It was happening again. Everything she’d feared was happening again. With shaky hands, she opened the top drawer to her right and reached for the picture frame inside of it. She let her trembling fingers graze the moving family picture.

Just for a moment, her eyes lingered on the younger version of herself leaning into her husband’s side and putting a hand on her beautiful son’s shoulder. Both of them were waving and smiling with such happiness it caused her eyes to water. His smile resembled his father’s so much.

“Seonghwa…” she breathed.

How could things have gone so wrong? Was this ever going to end? How much longer was she going to have to lie? How far were those people going to force her to go in order to keep him safe?

As much as she hated to admit it, Burton was right. She had no other choice. She’d seen what they were capable of. And she could never let that happen again. She hesitated for a moment before she unrolled the document in front of her.

Then she signed it.

“…Forgive me.” She buried her face in her hands.

**Wednesday, January 4th. 04:12AM. Snowshill, Gloucestershire, 24 West End Lane, Wooyoung’s bedroom. Jung Wooyoung.**

_Wooyoung found himself waking up on a chair in the middle of a vast, cold chamber with a ceiling as high as that of a cathedral. The room was filled with rows upon rows of towering shelves that held hundreds of small glass orbs, each with a yellowed and dusty label affixed below._

_He was surrounded by dozens of witches and wizards in hooded robes towering over him and slowly closing in. Nowhere to crawl, no way to escape. He was scared, injured, and most importantly, trapped. All of them were talking at the same time, speaking in a haunting, chant-like whisper. They told him to read the prophecy, to tell them what it says, to hurry so they could finally get rid of him._

_Wooyoung glanced down at the prophecy record, oddly warm and pulsating in his hands as if he held someone’s beating heart. But all he saw beyond the silver mist inside of it… was San’s face._

_“No… this is impossible,” he breathed, his voice weak. “Don’t drag San into this!”_

_Everything was a blur. He looked up to see his former professor yelling at him, but he couldn’t hear a thing. His mind was numb with horror. Donovan’s face was distorted with anger and hatred. He shoved Wooyoung to the ground, pointed his wand at him and all he knew from then on was pain. Nothing but terrible, endless pain before everything went to black and the world around him began to spin. It spun so fast that his insides turned. Wooyoung squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for it to end until it finally did._

_The nauseous feeling still lingering in his stomach, Wooyoung got to his feet again. He pressed a hand to his side which throbbed with pain from his sprained rib. Looking around himself, he quickly realized that he was no longer in the Hall of Prophecies._

_He was in a long, well-lit hallway with a neat burgundy carpet covering the fancy wooden floor. The walls were lined with countless wooden doors on both sides as far as the eye could reach, but something felt off about them. No matter how hard Wooyoung squinted at them, they looked strangely blurry, as if they were out of focus. He blinked a couple of times, but nothing changed._

_After letting his eyes scan his surroundings in more detail, Wooyoung found only one door that was perfectly visible, even though it was the one furthest away from him, at the very end of the unfamiliar corridor. Was this still part of the ministry? It was a hallway he’d never seen in his life before. He didn’t have time to ponder about that any longer because a scream echoed through the room._

_Startled, Wooyoung jolted his head to where the noise had come from. The door at the very end of the hallway. Then there was another drawn-out scream filled with such pain and fear, it made Wooyoung’s blood run cold. This time, Wooyoung had recognized the voice it belonged to, and the realization practically knocked the breath out of his lungs._

_How could it be…that voice…? There was just no way…_

_The fact that nothing but silence had followed the scream unnerved him even further. Panic began to swallow him whole. He had to do something. Despite the condition he was in, Wooyoung started running towards that door as fast as his legs would carry him, not caring about how many times he almost stumbled over his own feet._

_He heard several other pairs of footsteps pound against the floor behind him. Had they been there before? He didn’t have time to care. He just kept running, his eyes fixed to that door. Breathlessly he called out his name, over and over until his lungs hurt. His heart pounded with panic as he ran. Wooyoung threw his body against the door, successfully busting it open. He stumbled into the room his legs shaky as he came to a halt. A completely new wave of shock washed over him._

_“San…?” Wooyoung asked uneasily. He lay on the floor, face-down and unmoving. No reaction. “Please, San! You can’t do this to me!”_

_Wooyoung fell to his knees next to him and rolled him over. He couldn’t help but slap a hand over his mouth at the sight. All the lively warmth in San’s taint had disappeared, and his skin felt ice cold. His dark eyes were wide open, lifeless and empty, and his lips were slightly parted. The fear of whoever had killed him still lingered on his face._

_“N-no... this can’t... NO!” Wooyoung’s voice broke when he let out a scream of horror. Tears started to blur his vision as he pulled San's lifeless body into his lap. Uncontrollable sobs struck his entire body as he cupped San’s cold face with trembling hands. He desperately cried for help even though he knew there was nothing anyone could do._

“Wooyoung?”

_The entire world was spinning around him. Despair overwhelmed his mind. He couldn’t stop sobbing and screaming._

“Wooyoung!”

He woke with a start. Drenched in cold sweat, wide-eyed and breathing heavily, Wooyoung stared up into the darkness. He clutched his chest in an attempt to calm his racing heart. It took him a moment to realize where that he was in the safety of his bedroom. San sat right beside him, a calm but worried expression on his face as he regarded him. His hands rested gently on Wooyoung’s shoulders. He must’ve shaken him awake.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly. Moonlight spilled onto his bare chest and shoulders.

Wooyoung nodded, unable to form words.

“Another bad dream?”

Wooyoung nodded again.

San took his hand and slowly helped him sit up before leaning over to the bedside table to pour him a glass of water. He handed it to him. Wooyoung tried his best not to spill any of it, but his trembling hands weren’t exactly helping. The glass felt cold against his skin, and every sobering sip soaked up a little more of the horror still lingering in his veins. He took his time finishing it, and San patiently watched him until he did.

“Thanks,” Wooyoung said quietly and put the empty glass aside. Finally his breathing had calmed a little.

Then San embraced him. He gently caressed Wooyoung’s hair as he did, causing him to relax against his shoulder. Wooyoung slowly wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s torso. These nightmares were no rare occurrence. They had gotten more and more frequent over the past few weeks, but this had been by far the most intense and horrible one.

Wooyoung didn’t know for how long they had stayed like this, but eventually, when San pulled away, he already knew what was next. And he dreaded it.

“What was it about this time?” The question came out carefully.

“San…”

“Talking about it is better than bottling it up and letting it eat you up from the inside.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes. “Do we _have_ to do this? It…wasn’t even that bad.”

“You were talking gibberish and thrashing around like crazy. You looked more distressed than I’ve ever seen you,” San reasoned. He took Wooyoung’s hands in his, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “And besides…we promised.”

Wooyoung hesitated for a moment before sighing in defeat. “It wasn’t that different from usual,” he began. “I was back in the Department of Mysteries in that cell. Donovan kicked me… over and over again… until he fractured my rib. I passed out and woke back up with the prophecy record in my hands. They wanted me to read it but when I looked inside of it, all I saw was…”

Wooyoung’s words got stuck in his throat as he looked up at San.

“…What? Who did you see?”

Wooyoung looked down at his hands. “Just that New Lord guy and his stupid face. I refused to tell them the prophecy, so they started torturing me again…” Explaining it made his throat close up. It was as if he had to relive the entire thing again.

San gulped. It was obvious how bad he felt about making him do this. “Anything else?”

Wooyoung pressed his lips together, staring at their intertwined hands and trying not to picture the next scene he’d seen. “No, nothing,” he said. “I passed out again and then you woke me.”

San nodded to himself, most likely processing Wooyoung’s words. Then he pressed a brief kiss to his boyfriend’s forehead. “Thanks for telling me. And… sorry for making you do it.”

Wooyoung’s nightmares always ended the same. Him finding San’s dead body behind that godforsaken door. He felt horrible for lying to San about it, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell him. He was too scared. Scared, that it wasn't just a nightmare, but a prediction. The blood in his veins froze at the mere thought.

A little more than a month ago, when San had organized a surprise birthday party for Wooyoung, the latter had been abducted from the safety of his dorm in Hogwarts. He’d been held captive for a week, deep underground in the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry of Magic in London. He had found out that his uncle Stephan had been the one behind all of it. Stephan, as well as Professor Donovan, Wooyoung’s former Divination teacher, had worked for an organization of people who wanted to revive Lord Voldemort’s ideals and finish the cause he’d started. They referred to that plan as ‘the Cleanse,’ and they had needed Wooyoung and his exceptional skill as a young Legilimens to read the prophecy in order to prepare for any mishaps in the future, just like Voldemort had done when he’d attempted to murder the Potters.

Their plan had failed when San and Wooyoung’s friends had unexpectedly come to Wooyoung’s rescue before he could tell the Cleanse people – as San and Wooyoung had decided to call the New Lord and anyone who associated with him after ‘ _the cult freaks_ ,’ ‘ _operation of nutjobs_ ,’ and ‘ _the guys who kidnapped you_ ’ became too much of a mouthful. However, even though Wooyoung was safe for now, the Cleanse people were still out there, trying to find another way to get what they wanted.

A silence settled between them, both lost in their thoughts.

_“I want those bastards to pay…”_

Wooyoung perked up at the sound of San’s voice but quickly realized that the words hadn’t come from his mouth. He felt San’s dark thoughts flow into him as he read his mind. He squeezed San’s hand. “I know what you’re thinking,” he began carefully, “but please don’t do anything rash, San. It’s okay. _I’m_ okay.”

San frowned. He averted his eyes and shook his head. “It’s not okay... I won’t let them get away with this.” Wooyoung reached out to cup San’s face in his hands. San’s features softened the slightest bit when their eyes met, and he regarded him for a moment. Then he gently put his hands on Wooyoung’s. “I _can’t_.”

“I know. I want to stop them too,” said Wooyoung. “But we’ll figure it out together, okay? No more trying to play the hero on your own. We’re a team, right?”

Most of the time, Wooyoung was still unable to read San’s thoughts on demand. It was usually accidental and felt more like a quick peek into his mind to get an idea of his general mood and emotions. But when San felt emotions of a more intense nature like he did right now, his mind was like an open book.

Wooyoung detected a burning anger, especially at Donovan. An anger that wasn’t going to die down until someone stopped that man, and he wanted that someone to be himself. But somewhere at the root of San’s anger, Wooyoung also found guilt. San still blamed himself for failing to protect Wooyoung the night he was kidnapped.

Despite the forest fire of emotions Wooyoung felt flaming inside of San, the latter grazed Wooyoung’s cheek in the gentlest way. “Right,” he confirmed with a small smile.

Wooyoung pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Good.”

Another moment of silence.

“Hey… Remember when I gave you this necklace?” San asked after a while and reached out to touch the silver key pendant that Wooyoung never took off. “I said that it would always protect you. That _I_ would always protect you.”

Wooyoung chuckled. “Of course I remember.”

“I still stand by that. And I promise you that I’d die before I’d ever let anything happen to you again.”

Wooyoung flinched at those words. _He’d die. San would die and his dead body would be in Wooyoung’s arms._ He furrowed his brows and tried to ban that horrible thought from his mind.

San seemed to notice the sudden shift in Wooyoung’s attitude and furrowed his brows. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m just… tired.” Wooyoung reassured him. He couldn’t tell him. Not after everything he’d done for him.

San eyed him worriedly for a few seconds. He moved a strand of hair out of Wooyoung’s face. “Okay. Try to catch some more sleep. I’ll be right here if you need me,” he said in a soft tone.

Wooyoung gave him a small smile and nodded before letting himself fall back into the pillows. San followed his example and pulled the blanket over the both of them. As soon as he’d lied down next to him, he snuck an arm around Wooyoung’s waist and cuddled into his side.

It didn’t take long before San had fallen back asleep, his breathing calm and even. But Wooyoung was still wide awake, looking up at the dark ceiling. He didn’t even try to go back to sleep. He never could after one of his nightmares.

He’d thought they would become less frequent, that they would disappear with time, but instead, the opposite had happened. They were getting more and more intense, more detailed, more brutal. Not to mention that they all ended the same. And whenever he let his eyes fall shut, he’d see that image again. San’s empty eyes staring into nothingness as Wooyoung held his inert body in his lap.

A chill ran down his spine.

No matter how much he wanted to convince himself that it was nothing but a nightmare, a part of him couldn’t shake the feeling that it had to be more than that.

Wooyoung quietly sighed to himself. He reached for the phone on his bedside table and switched on the display. It was barely five in the morning. He put the phone back down and restlessly rolled to the side. Wrecking his mind about this until dawn would only drive him insane. So instead, he placed a hand on the arm San had slung around his waist and absent-mindedly let his fingers draw little circles into his skin. San pulled him closer in his sleep.

Outside his window the moon hovered over Snowshill, shedding its light on the sleeping village, and giving every surface in his room a soft silver gleam. In the twilight, the fabrics were muted hues, as if they too awaited dawn to ignite their colors again.

The house was completely silent. San’s steady breathing was the only sound he heard. His breath brushed gently against the back of Wooyoung’s neck, his comforting warmth pressed against his back. He couldn’t help but wonder if he was the only person awake in this town right now. What kind of terrible things went on beyond these four walls while he lay here in safety and without a clue?

Wooyoung lay awake for about two more hours until he deemed it an appropriate time to prepare an early breakfast. He wiggled out of San’s embrace, cautious not to wake him, and got out of bed. After making sure the blanket was secured around his sleeping boyfriend again, he pressed a kiss to his forehead, slid on one of his hoodies to wear over his purple pajamas, and quietly left the room.

Out in the hallway, he tip-toed past the door to his parents bedrooms, mindful not to make a sound as he snuck down the stairs leading to the kitchen and living room. As expected, the kitchen downstairs was empty. Early sun rays peeked in through the windows, tinting the walls in a pretty mixture of pink and orange. Some leftover coal from yesterday evening still glimmered in the fireplace, omitting a gentle smell of cinnamon and tangerines into the chilly room.

Wooyoung turned on the heater and switched on the lights before stepping up to the counter to begin to prepare breakfast as usual. Chamomile tea for his mother, a strong espresso for his father, Latte Macchiato with one teaspoon of cinnamon for San, hot chocolate for himself, and, of course, some toast with fried eggs and bacon. He was in the middle of frying the eggs when he heard the dampened sound of footsteps on the carpeted stairs behind him.

“Need any help?” Wooyoung turned around to see San walk into the room, stretching his arms and yawning. He was no longer shirtless. Wooyoung really wouldn’t have minded too much if he were, but he understood San’s will to look decent in front of his boyfriend’s parents. And he looked more than just decent. He’d thrown on a long-sleeved loose black button-up to match and a pair of light denim jeans. The outfit was casual enough, yet it still managed to show off his natural elegance. Not to mention that his dark hair was still slightly messy, which only added to his handsomeness. He ran a hand through it as he leaned against the kitchen isle behind Wooyoung.

“You’re up early,” Wooyoung pointed out with a chuckle.

San leaned in to press a brief kiss to his cheek. “The bed was too cold without you.”

Wooyoung scoffed, now checking on the bacon in the second pan. “You can set the table, cheeseball.”

San saluted and went on to do just that. He opened cupboards and drawers to get all the necessary cutlery and dishes. Once he’d found everything, he began to carry it to the dining table in the next room.

“Did you get some more sleep after we talked?”

“Not really. I didn’t wanna risk another nightmare.”

San gave a sympathetic hum.

Wooyoung startled when he heard a knock on the kitchen window. Its source had been a grey, fluffy, bewildered-looking owl flapping around outside and trying to get in. It had a rolled-up newspaper and a few letters tied to one of its feet.

“Oh, the mail,” said Wooyoung. “Could you let Oliver in, please?”

“Sure,” San called from the dining area and hurried into the kitchen to open the window. He relieved the owl of its baggage, put the mail on the kitchen counter, and gave it a tip. He chuckled when Oliver gratefully pinched his finger and flew off again.

“Thanks.” Wooyoung had watched the exchange with amusement.

“Anytime,” San replied, and stole a fresh toast from the toaster before Wooyoung could stop him.

“Hey! You – ”

But San had already bitten into it. He gave Wooyoung a teasing smirk. “Too slow.”

Wooyoung simply grinned, rolled his eyes, and poked him in the side. San yelped in surprise and held his waist, making Wooyoung laugh. That’s when Wooyoung’s father came downstairs, already dressed in the neat dark blue robes he always wore to work.

“Morning, dad.”

“Good morning, Mr. Jung.”

“Good morning, boys,” he greeted the two of them before taking a seat next to San at the breakfast table.

“Did you sleep well, dad?”

“Like a baby, actually. Taking care of three cases from the Improper Use of Magic Office in one day really knocked me out.” San handed Wooyoung’s father his espresso and took a seat at the breakfast table as well. He thanked San with a nod and, with of a flick of his wand, he let the Daily Prophet fly into his hand as well. “Only a couple of days left before you two head back to Hogwarts. Have you finished all your schoolwork?”

San grinned proudly. “Yes, sir.”

“Me too, almost,” said Wooyoung. He shoveled the bacon onto a plate and piled the toast onto another. “I’m finishing it today.”

“Good. That way you’ll have some free time to spend while you’re still here together.”

Wooyoung nodded. “We were actually planning to go play some Quidditch on that field behind the abandoned barn on Friday.”

“Be careful the muggles don’t spot you,” his father warned. “The last thing the ministry needs right now is a breach in the Statue of Secrecy. Besides, you should also show San the rest of our beautiful town before he leaves.”

“I know, I know,” Wooyoung waved off, chuckling. He served the food and sat down at the breakfast table with them. “Though I’m hoping this won’t be the last time he’ll stay with us,” he added and gave him an expectant look.

His father merely shrugged and passed the look on to San.

San showed his charming smile. “Not if I can help it.”

Wooyoung grinned to himself and shoveled some fried egg from the pan onto his boyfriend’s plate before taking a seat next to him so he could do the same for his father.

“That smells amazing,” Wooyoung’s mother spoke up as she entered the living room, still in her pale blue pajamas. She curiously eyed the variety of dishes Wooyoung had served.

“Just in time, mum,” said Wooyoung. “Join us.”

And as soon as she did, the four of them finally dug into their breakfast and casually began to chat about the various attractions of Snowshill Wooyoung could show San.

Wooyoung felt himself become more and more excited about taking San to his favorite hangout spots that he remembered from his childhood. Hopefully, he would get to see San’s hometown too one day. It was an imagination so beautiful, it almost made him forget about the darkness his nightmare had left in his mind. Almost.

Wooyoung’s mother had just suggested they go to the ice rink downtown when his father let out a sigh. “Oh, no. Not again…”

He had spread out the Daily Prophet in front of him, his eyes fixated on one of the articles below the flashy headline ‘ _Minister Barnaby Quintrell - too blundering to steer the Wizarding Community?_ ’

“What is it, Sanghoon?” Wooyoung’s mother demanded.

“Martin Orpington - another wizard from my department. He’s gone missing.”

Wooyoung perked up. “What?”

His father rubbed the bridge of his nose in distress. “The Wizengamot is going to have to start recruiting new people soon if this keeps up.”

“Does that mean you’ll have to start working overtime again?” Wooyoung’s mother regarded her husband worriedly.

San furrowed his brows. “Wait, ‘again’? Does this happen often, sir?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” said Wooyoung’s father. “It’s usually the Auror Office that has to deal with disappearances like this on a monthly basis. They chase dark wizards, after all. Sometimes the employees show up again a few weeks later and everything ends up fine, but it’s been unreal lately. Six strange disappearances in just one week, all of them from different divisions outside of the Aurors Office, two employees have been dismissed from the Wizengamot, and another two have resigned without explanation. Collin Abney, one of my long-term co-workers, was one of them and I haven’t heard from him since. No idea what happened there.”

Wooyoung met San’s eyes. Once again, he couldn’t explicitly read his thoughts, but he felt a wave of suspicion and dread pass through San’s mind.

“And of course the Daily Prophet wants to blame it on Minister Quintrell.” Wooyoung’s father shook his head, folded the newspaper back up, and took another bite of his toast.

Wooyoung wasn’t sure if he was simply being paranoid, but he couldn’t help but wonder if those disappearances had anything to do with the people who had kidnapped him about a month ago. They too had utilized the Ministry of Magic to do so, their most well-protected department at that. He couldn’t imagine them being able to pull off a bold crime like that without having ties to the ministry in one way or the other. Were they blackmailing ministry officials? Or possibly… Minister Quintrell himself?

They continued to eat in silence, each of them occupied with their own thoughts. Around five minutes later, Wooyoung’s father rose from his chair. “I should probably leave and get some work done then,” he said, pressed a kiss to his wife’s forehead, and grabbed his briefcase. “Count me out for dinner. I’ll grab a bite at work.”

Wooyoung’s mother handed him the coat he’d forgotten on the back of his chair. “Alright. Don’t overwork yourself.”

“No promises, darling.” He crossed the room and threw a handful of Floo Powder into the fireplace. The flames turned emerald and rose as he stepped into them. “Ministry of Magic.”

And with that, his father had left for work.

When the rest of them finished, Wooyoung automatically collected the dishes to wash them right away. San too had begun to help him, however, Wooyoung’s mother soon offered to take over.

“It’s okay, I’ll handle it,” she said with a smile.

Wooyoung looked at her dumbfoundedly. “Mum, didn’t you say you had a lot of work to do today?”

“I did, originally.” She took the plates from his hands. “But my client emailed me this morning and cancelled. I’ll start working around noon today.” She did a little victory dance and began to let the sink fill with water.

“Oh,” Wooyoung said lamely. He had no clue why washing the dishes instead of working put her in such a cheerful mood. He exchanged glances with San who simply shrugged. Well, he wasn’t going to complain about it either.

“You two will have the house pretty much to yourselves by then,” Wooyoung’s mother added jokingly. “What are your plans?”

“Just schoolwork. And video games, maybe.”

“Alright,” she said. “Make sure you do your work and _then_ play, alright? If anything is up, I’ll probably be in my office.”

San shot Wooyoung a smirk and mouthed the word, ‘ _play,_ ’ before wiggling his eyebrows at him suggestively. Wooyoung’s eyes widened and he mouthed back, ‘ _no_.’

They made sure to offer Wooyoung’s mother their help one more time, but she only told them that it was fine and to go upstairs already, which they did.

As soon as Wooyoung’s bedroom door had clicked closed behind them, he immediately threw himself backwards onto the bed. San followed his example and was quick to cuddle up to his side. He let his head rest on Wooyoung’s shoulder and lazily threw an arm around his neck, sharing his warmth with him. Wooyoung couldn’t help but notice that he smelled pleasantly of Latte Macchiato.

Even though all he had done today was prepare and eat breakfast, Wooyoung felt exhausted. Maybe his mind was still a little overwhelmed from his nightmare. Either way, he decided to rest his eyes for a few minutes.

He and San had done this quite often over the past two weeks of Christmas break; simply lying around on Wooyoung’s bed in comfortable silence, doing nothing but bask in each other’s presence as if they were disconnected from the rest of the world for a while. It was something Wooyoung cherished about their relationship; they didn’t need words.

Wooyoung had lost track of how long they’d stayed silent when San spoke up again.

“Your mother,” he began. “What is her profession exactly? I only know she works from home on most days.”

“She’s a web designer.”

Unlike his father, who had come from a family made up of generations of wizards, Wooyoung’s mother was a muggle. She was a hard-working career woman who valued her work almost as much as her family. She was also very sociable and charismatic, which Wooyoung liked to think were two traits he had inherited from her.

San hesitated. “…A web designer?”

“Yeah,” said Wooyoung. “Her department focuses on fonts and layouts.”

When San gave no response, Wooyoung opened his eyes to look at him. San helplessly blinked up at him, and Wooyoung had to chuckle. Sometimes he forgot that, as a pureblood wizard who had grown up surrounded by magic, San of course had no idea what the internet was or how it worked. They hadn’t discussed it in their Muggle Studies class yet.

“To put it simple, she creates websites that people can view on their computers.”

San’s confusion transformed into intrigue. Computers, he’d learned about before. “Interesting…” he mumbled. “So, are webbites dangerous?”

Wooyoung chuckled again. “Websites. And no, they’re completely harmless. Well, unless you look at scary ones. Usually they’re really informative. They’re something like…” he paused, looking for a good way to put it. “Like newspaper articles that don’t need any paper.”

For demonstration, Wooyoung fished his phone out of his pajama pants and showed him a couple of basic websites that came to his mind. Fascinated, San listened to his explanations about how and why people used them. He even asked a bunch of questions about the internet in general that Wooyoung had never even considered ( _What if I’m not there to see a message when it comes in? What happens to it?)_ and he had a good laugh answering all of them.

Eventually, the phone ended up in San’s hands. He turned it back and forth between his fingers and examined it with child-like wonder in his eyes. “These things are amazing,” he declared. “I wish we had stuff like this in the wizarding community as well. Video games, too.”

Wooyoung smiled as he observed San’s face. Was this really the same guy who had cockily asked him out after bumping into him on his way to the library? The same guy who spouted out flirty one-liners any chance he got? It was a side of San that Wooyoung rarely got to see, but every time he did, it only confirmed how in love he was with him.

He spontaneously nuzzled his face in San’s neck before placing a kiss right below his ear. “You’re so cute,” he told him.

“Cute? I’ll have you know, I’m extremely manly and cool.”

Wooyoung laughed. He watched him for a moment longer, then casually began to play with the buttons of San’s shirt. “Cute, manly, cool, handsome, charming, attractive, _sexy_ …”

Wooyoung bit his lip and undid the first two buttons. San smirked.

He put the phone aside and met Wooyoung’s eyes. “I’m honored. What a high compliment coming from the sexiest guy in the United Kingdom.”

It was a corny answer, but Wooyoung decided not to care. Not when San kept smirking like that. Two more buttons undone. “I forgot to mention that you’re an insufferable flirt as well.”

San leaned in closer until their faces were no more than a few inches apart. That Latte Macchiato scent was messing with Wooyoung’s senses in the best way. He swiftly undid the rest of the buttons and let his fingers run over San’s bare chest.

“I think you may have pointed that out before.” San’s voice had dropped to a whisper at their proximity. The sexual tension in the air was so dense one could probably cut it with a knife. Wooyoung couldn’t help but stare at his lips as he spoke. “And I already know it turns you on.”

“Shut up.” Wooyoung finally closed the distance between them and kissed him. He brought a hand to the back of San’s neck and pulled him in while San’s hand found its place on Wooyoung’s hips.

Words couldn’t describe the warm tingling feeling that erupted in Wooyoung’s stomach whenever he kissed San. He was blown away by the fact that he still felt it just as intensely as he had the first time they had kissed the night of his birthday. Every inch of his skin was set alight with just a simple touch from San. It was beyond magical.

Wooyoung didn’t even realize when exactly they had rolled over without ever breaking their kiss, but at some point, San ended up on top of Wooyoung. Not that it really mattered anyway. He let his hands glide down San’s sides before grabbing his open shirt to pull him even closer. San responded by gently running a hand through Wooyoung’s hair as they got lost in their kiss.

Though a lustful demon inside of Wooyoung really didn’t want to listen, a reasonable part of his brain made him pull away after a few more blissful minutes. “If my mum notices that we’re not doing any schoolwork, we’re both toast,” Wooyoung whispered against San’s lips.

San hesitated – probably fighting the same demon Wooyoung had – then he nodded. “You’re right, she might throw me out,” he whispered back. They both opened their eyes and chuckled at each other, their foreheads touching. “If she could read my mind and saw all the things I want to do to her son, she’d definitely throw me out.”

A deep blush spread across Wooyoung’s face as he, in fact, _could_ read San’s mind. The tingling feeling still lingering in his stomach intensified. “She wouldn’t go that far,” he said, trying not to let on that his cheeks were burning with both embarrassment and excitement. “But she might make you sleep in the guest room.”

“In that case, we’d better start working.” San pressed one more kiss to Wooyoung’s lips before getting off of him, allowing him to sit up.

No less than two hours later, Wooyoung sat at his desk by the window, hovered over his workload of assignments and surrounded by notebooks, rolled up parchments, and all kinds of school books ranging from _The Standard Book of Spells: Grade 6_ to _Flesh-Eating Trees of the World_. He rested his chin in the palm of his hands as he scribbled sentence after sentence onto his parchment. Occasionally, he paused, dipped the tip of his feather into the inkwell to his right, let out a sigh, and continued to write.

The amount of homework the professors had given them over Christmas break was unbelievable. For almost every subject they were required to write an essay of at least two rolls of parchment. One on the Principles of Re-Materialization for Transfigurations, one on Everlasting Elixirs for Potions, one on the Imperius Curse for Defense Against the Dark Arts, one on Self-Fertilizing Shrubs for Herbology… the list went on. Right now, Wooyoung was in the middle of writing his third essay of the day, the Imperius Curse one.

“I still can’t believe Professor Snippet gave us Gryffindors more work than the Slytherins,” Wooyoung said bitterly as he flipped through the pages of _Curses and Counter Curses_ , trying to find any useful information about the unforgivable curse.

“I’m sorry, baby,” said San sympathetically. He was sprawled out on Wooyoung’s bed, lying on his stomach. As he’d told Wooyoung’s father, he had already finished his homework before Christmas, eager to start working on his own project. Instead of schoolbooks, he was surrounded by complicated books, drawings, and concept designs of a time turner. Most of them he had drawn himself, but he had also received some material from Yunho per owl. It had been the only thing on his mind ever since Yunho had told him that the old time turner – the one they had used to rescue Wooyoung from the Ministry - had stopped working after having been used so many times over a short time period. “Are you sure you don’t want to just copy mine? I already finished it a week ago.”

“Thanks, but that would be too obvious. I’ll just get it over with.”

“I mean you don’t have to copy it word for word. Use it as reference. Snippet never looks at it that closely anyway,” San shrugged, making Wooyoung laugh.

“You’re just saying that. Seriously, I’ll pass.” Wooyoung turned around in his chair to face him. “More importantly, how’s your fancy device coming along?”

Though Wooyoung didn’t understand much about time turners other than the fact that they… well, turned back time, he was extremely curious about San’s project. He admired his dedication to work on something so complicated that he had absolutely no training in. Plus, anything that could potentially help them find out more about how they could stop those Cleanse people, Wooyoung supported.

The ghost of a triumphant smile crossed San’s lips. “Almost done.”

“What, really?” Wooyoung perked up with excitement. He put away his feather before scooting over to his boyfriend. “I thought you said this might take you around three more weeks!”

“Well, I miscalculated,” San grinned. “One of the letters Oliver brought earlier was from Yunho. It had two pages he ripped out of a really helpful book he found in his grandmother’s attic in it. Hold on…”

Wooyoung had no idea what San was doing as watched him look back and forth between Yunho’s records and the small rose gold device with a long thin chain dangling from it in his hands. He used his wand to twist a bunch of tiny cogwheels inside of it. Once again, he checked the records, murmured an incantation, tapped the device exactly four times with the tip of his wand, and repeated the process. Finally, he closed the time turner’s glass lid and gave Wooyoung an excited grin.

Wooyoung couldn’t help but share his enthusiasm. “…And? Is it done?”

San nodded, unable to contain his grin. “It’s done. If everything worked out as planned, this baby should be able to take the traveler to any desired time, let them control exactly when they want to head back to the present, and… well, have the traveler remain in one piece throughout all of that. It won’t, however, let them interfere with the past. The traveler should be an invisible observer, just like with Yunho’s old time turner.”

“That’s incredible, San!” Wooyoung exclaimed, giving him a quick hug. “I can’t believe you really managed to build your own time turner!”

“Whoa, whoa. Not so fast.” San’s grin widened. “We can’t know whether I actually managed to do it until we try it out.”

Wooyoung pulled away again. “Try it out? You mean right now? But…”

“Yeah, why not!” San stood, thrilled. “Where would you like to go, baby?” he asked and put the rose gold chain around his neck. “An open-air Rock N Roll concert in the 1980s? A fancy masquerade ball back in Victorian England? Or shall we carve our names into a tree somewhere in the woods of the Early Joseon Dynasty?”

Wooyoung reached out and put a hand on his to stop him. “San… As much as I want to go to all of those amazing places and do all of those wild things with you… I don’t think it’s a good idea to try out the time turner yet.”

San’s smile weakened. “What?” he demanded. “Why not?”

“Because it’s illegal,” Wooyoung reasoned. He’d assumed this was obvious. “We’re going to Azkaban if we get caught.”

“Then we just won’t get caught! We can’t find out whether it works or not unless we try it out. I can’t think of a safer place to do it than here.”

“San.” Wooyoung would’ve chuckled at that reckless logic if the situation hadn’t been so serious. “Look, my dad works at the ministry. It wouldn’t surprise me if they had some kind of method that kept track of the magic used in their employee’s homes or something.”

San scowled. “It’s not like we’re using Dark Magic or anything, though.”

“Of course we aren’t, but it’s still not allowed to own, let alone _build_ , a time turner outside of ministry control. We can already consider ourselves lucky that they didn’t trace the records you and Yunho exchanged per owl.”

“But – ”

“My dad could get into huge trouble. Not to mention how much trouble _we’d_ be in with him if he found out about us breaking the law in his house.”

“I know, but – ”

“And besides…” Wooyoung added. “I generally don’t want him to get involved in any of _this_.” He didn’t need to elaborate further for San to understand that by “this,” he didn’t just mean the time turner business. The mere thought of having his father get even remotely involved with their plan to dig deeper into the New Lord’s business made Wooyoung anxious. He couldn’t let him meet the same fate as his uncle, who’d been killed by his very own people during Wooyoung’s rescue. “We shouldn’t try it out yet. At least not as long as we’re still here.”

San sat back down and pursed his lips as he considered his words. He averted his gaze and looked out the window, his expression conflicted. One of his hands played absent-mindedly with the time turner dangling in front of his chest.

“Please?” Wooyoung insisted and took his free hand in his.

San turned his head to meet Wooyoung’s eyes. He still looked a little reluctant, but nodded nonetheless. “Okay. We won’t try it out.”

Wooyoung was glad he’d won him over but couldn’t help but feel bad for him as he watched San try to hide his disappointment. He didn’t show much of it on his face, but even just a light tap into his mind spoke more than a thousand words. Wooyoung let a hand run through his boyfriend’s hair. “I’m sorry. I know how excited you were for this.”

San shook his head and put on a small smile. “It’s okay. You’re right about it being too risky. All my effort would be for nothing if your dad ended up confiscating the time turner or worse,” he admitted. “And besides, we’ll be on our way back to Hogwarts in four days. I’ll manage until then.”

Wooyoung cupped San’s face and briefly kissed his lips. “Good.”

“I love you,” said San.

“Even after all that just now?”

“Even after the stars stop burning.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes, even though he couldn’t deny that his heart fluttered whenever San said stuff like that. Somewhere deep down, Wooyoung loved hearing it.

“I love you too, cheeseball.” He turned to look at the cluttered desk he’d left behind before he’d scooted over to San. He sighed as he remembered his half-finished assignment. “You know what, I’ll finish that stupid essay tomorrow. Let’s play some video games.”

**Wednesday, January 4th. 04:29PM. Hogwarts, Great Hall. Kang Yeosang.**

“Checkmate!” Yeosang exclaimed and threw his hands in the air. He triumphantly watched his Knight lift his sword in a dramatically slow manner before violently smashing Seonghwa’s King to pieces. Yeosang excitedly clapped at the scene. He had defeated Seonghwa in Wizard Chess for the third time in a row – an extremely rare occurrence. “Man, I’m on a roll today!”

Seonghwa simply smiled and put his broken King back together with a flick of his wand. “Okay, okay. You won again.”

“That’s right!” Yeosang couldn’t hide his grin. It was hard not to get cocky about this winning spree, considering he’d been losing every single game he’d played against Seonghwa over the past week. “Take that, Mr. ‘ _I won the Student Wizard Chess Tournament four years in a row_!’ I can’t believe you made such an amateur move towards the end.”

Seonghwa scoffed at this mockery, though Yeosang didn’t miss how his cheeks had taken on a light shade of pink. He ran a hand through his black hair and averted his eyes. “I suppose you were just… extraordinarily lucky today.”

“Yeah, right. More like extraordinarily _skilled_!” Yeosang teased. Seonghwa rolled his eyes at him and they both laughed.

They sat by themselves at the Ravenclaw table to the left side of the Great Hall, which still wore its extravagant holiday decoration. A large Christmas pine stood next to the Staff Table on the other side of the room, decked in banners of gold and silver as well as colorful little presents and candy canes, and the abundance of candles floating above them gave off a delicate scent of cinnamon and roasted apples. The enchanted ceiling showed a cloudy gray winter sky and produced thousands of little snowflakes falling around them. They evaporated before they could leave any traces on the four long trestle tables and benches that occupied the hall. The few other students who were here passed their time studying, drinking some tea, or simply chatting with a friend.

Yeosang had spent most of his Christmas break with Seonghwa. Whenever Seonghwa didn’t help his mother with paperwork or had to “attend to his prefect duties,” he’d asked Yeosang to spend time with him. Seonghwa’s requests to spend time together had initially come as a surprise to Yeosang, but he’d ended up learning a lot about him in the process. As a result, they now often played chess together, chatted about their studies and interests in the common room, or did homework in the Study Area on the fourth floor. Seonghwa had actually helped Yeosang practice a bunch of useful N.E.W.T level spells, which he felt really thankful for. 

Recently however, Yeosang often caught himself almost glad that Christmas break would come to an end soon. Sure, it had been a nice change to have the sixth-year boys’ dorm all to himself, and he also couldn’t complain about the beautifully deserted library he’d spent hours reading in, without any interruption or distraction. But the truth was: he missed his social life.

Not that spending time with Seonghwa wasn’t also being social. Yeosang really did enjoy hanging out with him. He was smart, really helpful when it came to schoolwork, a great partner for Wizarding Chess, and once he got comfortable and shook off his uptight shell, he was actually a funny guy.

But Yeosang missed being silly with his best friends, going to Yeonjun’s wild parties, or just going out for a Butterbeer and leaving the castle for a while. He missed cringing at Wooyoung and San being disgustingly sweet with each other, and even Yunho and Mingi constantly bickering with each other. And most of all he missed Jongho.

Jongho had stayed consistent in sending him letters every other day. In most of them he talked about the things he did with his family and asked Yeosang how he was doing. Though, a couple of days had passed since his last one. Yeosang assumed that he was busy, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t look forward to the next letter. They never failed to put a smile on Yeosang’s face. He hadn’t realized how cute Jongho’s handwriting looked, and how his speaking patterns were reflected in how carefully he chose his words. Whenever Yeosang read them, he could almost hear Jongho’s voice reading those letters to him in his mind.

But despite his sweet letters, what Yeosang really missed was his presence. The sound of his honeylike voice, the scent that surrounded him and reminded Yeosang of vanilla and white chocolate, the way he liked to chuckle at his own jokes, the way his eyes turned into little crescents when he smiled, the softness of his hands on Yeosang’s skin, the taste of coconut chapstick on his lips…

“Yeosang?” Seonghwa eyed him with concern. Yeosang perked up. Damnit, he had completely blanked out on him. “Are you okay?”

Yeosang shifted in his seat. “Y-yes. Sorry, I zoned out… What were you saying?”

Seonghwa’s features softened and his smile returned. It was his slightly crooked smile, the one he only ever showed when he was genuinely amused or fond of something. “Nothing of importance.”

His stare lingered on Yeosang for a moment too long, which made Yeosang wonder what he thought of him. Was he silently wondering what Yeosang had thought about? Surely, he wasn’t going to ask him about that, was he? And why was he smiling like that? Had he figured him out? Yeosang awkwardly cleared his throat. Time to change the subject.

“Should we get going then?” he asked, checking the time. The two of them had made plans to go to Hogsmeade today. Yeosang needed a new quill since his old one had broken, and he didn’t want to go alone. Seonghwa had enthusiastically agreed. It was a good opportunity to get out of the castle for a while and maybe even grab a nice Butterbeer with him.

“About that…” Seonghwa began. “I can’t make it today.”

“Oh. Really?” Yeosang’s heart sank a little. He’d been looking forward to this little trip outside all morning.

“Yeah. My mother said she needs my help with some paperwork again. There was already so much material to go through yesterday evening. There’s no way she finished all of that.”

Yeosang nodded. He looked down at his hands in an attempt to hide his disappointment. “I see,” he said lamely. “That’s a bummer.”

Seonghwa reached out to take one of his hands but stopped himself mid-motion. Now his hand rested awkwardly on the table between them. “Sorry, I really wanted to go to Hogsmeade with you.” He sounded genuinely apologetic. He paused for a second, reconsidering his words. “Should I… make up an excuse?”

“No, don’t worry about it,” said Yeosang and waved off. “I’m sure she wouldn’t have asked you if it wasn’t important. Maybe we can go another time.”

“Sorry…” Seonghwa repeated.

Yeosang had to laugh. “It’s okay, seriously.”

Seonghwa still seemed to feel bad even after the two of them had wordlessly gotten up, packed up the chess board and pieces, and swung their bags over their shoulders in order to leave the Great Hall. Yeosang simply eyed him from the side, trying to come up with something to say that would make him feel better.

“You’re spending a lot of time with her lately,” he pointed out eventually. “Your mother, I mean.”

“Indeed,” said Seonghwa. The crooked smile was back. This time it meant fondness. “The air between us is still a little awkward, but that’s nothing compared to what it was like before. I think she might’ve actually turned a new leaf.”

“Hey, that’s great!” Yeosang nudged Seonghwa’s shoulder and grinned.

Seonghwa rarely spoke of private matters, especially when it came to the relationship with his mother. Until a month ago, when Wooyoung was kidnapped, nobody even knew that Headmistress Park was Seonghwa’s mother. He’d always kept it a secret from everyone in order to be treated like a regular student and avoid any rumors concerning his flawless record. Yeosang and the rest of the group who had worked together to rescue Wooyoung had only found out after getting in trouble for using an empty classroom as a means to practice offensive magic. Seonghwa’s relationship with his mother had changed after he’d finally stood up to her by going against her order to rat out his friends at the price of Wooyoung’s life. Since then, the two of them seemed to have talked things out to some degree – Yeosang hadn’t pushed for details. He was just happy to see his friend happy.

As the two of them passed the heavy door that led from the Great Hall to the Entrance Hall, Seonghwa apologized for canceling their plans once again. Yeosang simply laughed and reassured him that it was truly fine and that he should stop worrying about it. “Just go, Hwa. I’ll find something else to do.”

For a moment, Seonghwa seemed startled by the nickname, but he didn’t comment on it. He shifted his gaze to the side and fixed his Ravenclaw tie (even though there was nothing to fix), unable to hide his grin.

“Very well, then. I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow.” He threw Yeosang one last look over the shoulder before making his way towards the corridor that would lead him to the Headmistress’ Office.

Yeosang watched him until he disappeared around the corner. He sighed. Maybe he should go to Hogsmeade by himself. He wasn’t in the mood to go to the library or lounge around in the common room all alone, and he only needed to stop by Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop and buy a new quill anyway. Maybe he could even use it to write a letter to Jongho as soon as he came back. Newfound excitement washed over him at that idea. He’d just have to grab his coat before leaving.

A smitten grin plastered to his face, he turned around to climb up the Great Stairs. Yeosang was so deep in thought about what he was going to include in his letter to Jongho that he almost bumped into somebody on his way up. He lost his balance and stumbled backwards. He was too far away from the stone railing to catch himself, so he had no choice but to squeeze his eyes shut and brace himself for a rather ungraceful fall.

He didn’t, however, fall down the stairs. The person he had almost bumped into had grabbed him by the shoulders in the last second, successfully preventing disaster. Astonished, Yeosang looked up to see –

“Mingi?”

“Yeosang, hey.” Mingi chuckled. He stood tall enough to easily tower over Yeosang, his dark brown hair falling over his forehead in a fashionably messy manner. His Slytherin tie hung loosely around his neck, and he’d left the top two buttons of the white button up he wore underneath his black uniform robes unbuttoned. Draped over his shoulders, he wore a long green cardigan that perfectly complimented the Slytherin badge on his chest. He helped Yeosang regain his balance and let go of his shoulders again. “Sorry, I almost knocked you down the stairs.”

“No, it’s totally my fault. I didn’t watch where I was going.”

“Well, where _were_ you going?”

“Ravenclaw Common Room. I wanted to grab my coat before I go to Hogsmeade.”

Mingi seemed intrigued. “Hogsmeade, huh?”

“Yeah, I need a new writing quill. Seonghwa was supposed to join me but something came up,” explained Yeosang. “What about you?”

“Me? I was going nowhere really. San, Yeonjun, Changbin, and even Yunho all went home over break so I’ve kinda just been hanging around all week, trying to find something to do.”

“That sucks. You must be extremely bored.”

“Yeah...” A slightly awkward silence settled between them. Then a thought seem to have struck Mingi. “Would you... like me to join you maybe?”

Yeosang blinked at him in surprise. “You mean to Hogsmeade?”

“If you don’t mind. I could keep you company...” Mingi let out a laugh and awkwardly scratched the back of his head. He looked somewhat embarrassed, as though he was beginning to regret having made the suggestion. “If you don’t wanna go by yourself, that is.”

Yeosang brightened up. “I’d like that, actually,” he said. “I do still need to go get my coat though.”

“Same.” Relief flashed across Mingi’s features. He broke into a wide smile. “Meet you back here in ten?”

Yeosang returned his smile. “Sure.”

And with that, Mingi made his way down the stairs in the direction of the Dungeons where the Slytherin Common Room was located, while Yeosang continued to climb up the stairs all the way to the Ravenclaw Tower – without falling this time. It took him less than a minute to grab his black winter coat and Ravenclaw scarf once he’d reached his dorm, and he found himself excited to head right back out the door again, glad that he didn’t have to go to Hogsmeade by himself.

When Yeosang got back to the Entrance Hall, Mingi was already waiting for him. He stood by the huge door that led outside, his hands in the pockets of the thick brown coat that replaced his green cardigan from earlier. He, too, had thrown on his Slytherin scarf to represent his house.

“Ready to leave?” he asked.

Yeosang responded with a nod and the two of them finally pushed past the doors and exited the castle. As soon as they had set foot outside into the thick layer of untouched snow covering the front courtyard, they were greeted by the fresh smell of winter. The sky was no longer gray and had instead taken on a deep burgundy shade as the sun kissed the horizon. Glittering snowflakes fell soundlessly, taking their time before they reached the ground and enveloping everything in a calm and silent coldness. It was comforting in its own special way. Breath pale against the numbing air, Yeosang buried his hands in the pockets of his coat and blinked against the freezing wind sweeping across the castle grounds.

Their way down to Hogsmeade was awfully silent and awkward.

Yeosang didn’t know what to talk to Mingi about. He realized how little he actually knew about the guy. The two of them had never had a reason to spend time together like this without either Wooyoung or San around. Yeosang knew that he was San’s best friend, born in a non-wizard family, a Beater on Slytherin’s Quidditch team, had a strange love-hate relationship going on with Yunho… and that was about it. Yeosang had no clue what Mingi did in his free time or what kept him going, but that was hardly a good question to ask out of the blue.

 _Uh… what do you do?_ Yeosang shuddered. No, there was no way he’d say that. He’d kill the conversation before it even started. _So… what’s it like growing up with muggles?_ Stupid question. That would possibly only offend him. He shook the thought out of his head. _So, how’s…life…?_

The closer they got to the magical village, the crunchier the snow beneath their feet became, and the more Yeosang felt the need to come up with a good conversation topic.

He stole a glance over at Mingi. A couple of snowflakes had gotten stuck in his hair and scarf. He’d buried his face in his scarf in a way that covered half of it, only his sharp eyes and his cheeks reddened by the cold peeking out. Then their eyes met for a brief moment, so they both looked away. Great, he’d just made things ten times more awkward.

“So, uh…” Mingi began unsurely, causing Yeosang to perk up. “Nice weather, right?”

They blinked at each other, then burst out laughing. Yeosang relaxed a little.

“Sorry, I suck at small talk,” said Mingi, still chuckling.

“Oh, trust me, so do I.” If only he knew.

Mingi shook his head. “I’ve been trying to think of a question to ask ever since we left the castle and the best I could come up with was, “nice weather, right?””

“Fair.” Yeosang gave him a smile. “But the weather actually is very nice. I love snow.”

Mingi returned his smile. “Me too,” he said, holding out his arm to let some of the little white flakes fly into the palm of his hand. A fond expression on his face, he watched them melt away on his skin. “It’s like colorless confetti in a wintery ballroom. That’s what my dad always used to say whenever we went skiing together as a family.”

“Cool,” Yeosang said genuinely. “I’ve never been skiing before. My family isn’t the type to voluntarily spend time together.”

“Oh, that’s a shame.”

Yeosang shrugged. “I’m used to it. Plus, I always had Wooyoung to keep me company.”

They passed the gates leading into an alleyway that would take them to Hogsmeade’s High Street, the heart of the village, after three more minutes of walking. It was so narrow that they had to walk behind one another, stretching their arms to touch the homes on both sides to help them balance on the unevenly cobbled ground.

“Your parents are both muggles, right?” Yeosang changed the subject. “They must’ve been surprised when they found out that you’re a wizard.”

“Surprised, yeah. But they were happy more than anything else. They said they were proud of me and that I had a bright future ahead of me.” Mingi played with the ends of his scarf and his smile faltered a little. “Little did they know I’m actually not that great. I take longer than anyone else to learn new spells.”

Yeosang silently considered him for a few seconds. “I don’t know about you,” he began, “but I think risking your own life to save another’s sounds pretty damn great to me.” Mingi gave him a surprised glance but didn’t say anything. His focus seemed to have shifted inward. Yeosang’s eyes fell to the scarf Mingi was still fidgeting with. “Your scarf. It has your name sewn into it,” he pointed out, realizing how lame he sounded.

“Hm?” Mingi looked at it. “Oh, that. My mom did it when I first brought it home after my first year at Hogwarts. I used to have a habit of losing my belongings as a kid, so she started sewing my name into everything. Even my underwear.” His eyes widened, his face turning red - but not from the cold this time. “That’s kinda embarrassing, actually. I don’t know why I said that. Why would I say that?”

Yeosang laughed. “No, come on. It’s adorable.”

Mingi sheepishly scratched the back of his head. “W-We’re here, by the way.”

It was true. Yeosang had gotten so invested in the conversation that he hadn’t realized that they were already strolling along High Street. Yeosang couldn’t help but smile at the holiday atmosphere that still lingered in the picturesque little village. Nearly every edge and corner of the countless shops and cottages had been decked in red and golden Christmas garlands and holiday lights, and every tree wore enchanted candles as well as a shining golden star on top. Many villagers tried desperately to free the entrances to their houses of snow, and a handful of students rushed into the Hogshead Inn.

The chilly wind only grew stronger as it traveled through the street, stinging their faces and making them pull their coats tighter around their bodies. The shop they needed was a little bit further down High Street to the left. Yeosang tried to warm his cheeks and ears with his hands on the way there.

Yeosang and Mingi quietly sighed in relief when they stepped into the shop, finally escaping the cold. Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop was a relatively small and cozy store. A fire crackled in the corner, filling the room with a blissful warmth that tickled their frozen noses. The air was a little dusty and carried the smell of both old and new parchment coming from the shelves. They sold all sorts of quills, ranging from extra tiny to ones that fit into your pocket to ones that improved your handwriting, as well as rolls of parchment in various sizes, inkwells available in all colors – Mingi was especially intrigued by the rainbow ink – and other clutter like invisible paper clips and dancing notebooks.

Yeosang spent a few minutes picking a regular-sized quill with a deep blue feather and three new rolls of parchment. Feeling grateful that Mingi had accompanied him here, he also bought Mingi a small jar of rainbow ink, as well as a brand-new quill.

“Thanks, you didn’t have to do that,” Mingi said once they had stepped out of Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop, each of them a little bag with the shop’s logo on it in their hands.

“Please. I saw the love in your eyes when you looked at that rainbow ink.” They both laughed.

“So… is there anything else you need?”

Yeosang thought about it and shook his head. “Not really. This was the only reason I wanted to come down here.” Well, that and the desperate need to leave the castle for a while.

“Oh.” Mingi nodded. Some of the awkwardness from earlier returned. They could, of course, simply head back to the castle and go their separate ways again. Though if he was completely honest, Yeosang didn’t want to go back to sitting around in the library for the rest of the day. He’d done enough of that for the past two weeks. Plus, Mingi hadn’t sounded like he was too enthusiastic about lazing around without any of his closer friends either.

“You know what?” Yeosang said promptly, “I actually don’t have any other plans for today - or the rest of the week, that is.”

Mingi brightened up. “Wanna go to Honeydukes then?” he suggested. “I’m almost out of Chocolate Frogs.”

“Sure. But let’s grab some food at the Three Broomsticks afterwards.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Mingi smiled. Yeosang smiled back.

Yeosang had never seen Honeydukes this empty. He and Mingi were the only ones in the wizarding sweets shop that was usually brimming with students. Upon entering, they were immediately met by a delicate smell of chocolate and candies. They strolled through shelves upon shelves of the most succulent-looking sweets imaginable. A hundred different types of chocolate organized in rows to form a beautiful mosaic of browns, large barrels filled to the brim with Every Flavor Beans, Chocolate Frogs, Toothflossing Stringmints, and a thousand other brands Yeosang didn’t even recognize.

Mingi was quick to stick his whole arm into the barrel of Chocolate Frogs and filled the little floating basket that had been following him ever since they had entered the shop. Yeosang chuckled at his antics and filled his own with a handful of Every Flavor Beans, as well as two bags of nuts for Jongho and a package of Wheezing Whizzbees for Wooyoung.

Twenty minutes later, they left the shop with two additional bags overflowing with a semester’s supply of snacks. Mingi had insisted to carry all of the bags, despite Yeosang’s protests.

Yeosang was having a blast. After hanging around in the castle for more than a week, it was more than refreshing to be outside again. Mingi also made a great companion. Once they had moved past their initial awkwardness, they’d found many things to talk and laugh about. Yeosang could tell that Mingi had spent too much time by himself this past week. He easily filled the silence talking about anything that came to his mind, now that he had an opportunity to get everything off his chest, and Yeosang didn’t mind listening to him.

As promised, their next stop was the Three Broomsticks Inn, which Yeosang was particularly glad about. His stomach had been growling angrily ever since Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop.

Just like all the other shops, the Three Broomsticks was remarkably less packed than Yeosang was used to. Only around ten people occupied the warm and welcoming inn. The two of them settled down in an empty booth by the window and ordered two hot butterbeers – the alcoholic kind because why not – plus two bowls of chicken soup. As they waited for the food in silence, warming their hands on their steaming beverages, Yeosang directed his attention outside the window.

It had gotten dark outside. The streetlights were the only thing shedding light upon the somewhat deserted streets and alleys of Hogsmeade. Everyone had disappeared into either their homes or one of the many pubs around here for the night.

“You know,” Mingi began. “Until now I didn’t realize how little I know about you.”

Yeosang tore his gaze from the window to look at him.

“All I know is that you’re Wooyoung’s best friend, you’re from a wizard family, you’re really smart, and you and Jongho are kinda together,” he listed. “Oh, and also you’re good at healing magic.”

Yeosang chuckled and took a sip of his butterbeer. Immediately, a pleasant warmth spread inside of him. “Hey, that’s more than I know about you. And besides, there’s not that much more to me.”

The waiter came over to their table and placed two bowls of chicken soup in front of them. The delicious smell oozing from them made Yeosang’s mouth water.

“I don’t believe that,” said Mingi. “You’re one of the most popular guys in the castle. Some people would kill to be your friend.”

“Only because of Wooyoung. He’s the real star in this friend group. I’m just his pretty side-kick.” Yeosang didn’t mean it in a bitter way. He couldn’t care less about popularity. If anything, the fact that he was popular had gotten him more trouble than anything else. He tried not to think about Corbyn.

They had just begun to eat when – much to Yeosang’s surprise – the waiter approached their table once more. Yeosang already wondered whether Mingi had ordered something else, but then he spotted the owl the waiter had with him. Tiny and round, it excitedly flapped its little brown wings, which made it that much harder for the waiter to keep it under control.

“Excuse me,” began the waiter as soon as he’d reached their table. He untied the envelope that dangled from the enthusiastic owl’s leg. The tone in his voice matched the irritation on his face. “Is either one of you Kang Yeosang?”

“Um…” Mingi and Yeosang exchanged looks. “Yes, that’s me.”

The waiter let out a sigh of relief and handed Yeosang the envelope. “This owl squeezed itself through our kitchen window five minutes ago. Made a huge mess of the place,” he complained. Then he thrust the owl into Mingi’s arms. “I’m not paid enough to clean all of that up. Please tell whoever sent you this letter to train their damn owl.”

Mingi furrowed his brows and opened his mouth to protest.

“Sorry,” said Yeosang quickly. He didn’t want to cause a scene. His cheeks were already hot with embarrassment. “It won’t happen again.”

The waiter narrowed his eyes at him. “Enjoy your meal.”

With that, he left. Mingi glared after him as he did.

“What a dick,” he mumbled and began to straighten out the tiny owl’s feathers. It had calmed remarkably ever since Mingi held it, big yellow eyes examining him curiously. “He didn’t have to be so rude about it.”

But Yeosang’s attention belonged to the envelope in his hands. His name was written on its back, clear as day in neat and careful characters. He immediately recognized the handwriting. A wide smile spread across his face as he opened the envelope and pulled out a piece of parchment.

_Dear Yeosang._

_This is my third attempt. I hope this letter reaches you well._

_I’m sorry this arrived so late, especially since this was supposed to be me wishing you a happy new year. The owl that (hopefully) brought you this is the one I told you my brother got me as a Christmas present. He’s extremely cute, but it seems he’s already developed attachment issues. I needed a whole week to convince him that it’s okay to leave me for a while (he kept coming back a few minutes after I’d send him out. I think it’s because he missed me). That’s why I couldn’t write in the meantime, I hope you’re not too disappointed._

_His name is Mr. Chestnut, by the way. Because of his color. A little uncreative, I know, but he doesn’t want to listen to anything else, so I decided to just roll with it._

_Anyway, enough about my owl._

_Are you doing alright? I hope it’s not too boring without Wooyoung and San around._

_I’m spending most of the time inside these days. It’s pretty much the same routine every day: I go for my morning jog, have breakfast with the family, catch up on schoolwork, have lunch, work out again, laze around in my room until dinner, then text Wooyoung to make sure he’s safe before I go to sleep, and repeat. My mom is really glad to have me home again, but somehow I still wish I’d stayed in Hogwarts. I’d get to see you every day, take you out for butterbeer, walk the snowy castle grounds and admire the view, ignore the rules and have snowball fights in the courtyard, I don’t know. Whatever you like._

_I realize that I’m rambling. I can’t help it. You occupy my mind all the time. How dare you, by the way? At least pay the rent. Actually, I’ll charge you for it when I come back. The price is your lips._

_(I apologize if that was too much)._

_I’m not saying I can’t wait to see your face but that’s exactly what I’m saying. Four more days._

_Happy New Year,_

_Jongho_

Still smiling like an idiot, Yeosang looked up from the letter.

Mingi met his eyes, the hint of an envious look on his face as he pet Mr. Chestnut. “From Jongho?”

Yeosang nodded. “He’s basically just saying happy new year. And… that he misses me.” He couldn’t contain his smile. The mere thought of Jongho sitting in his room and writing this letter with him on his mind made his heart flutter.

Mingi smiled weakly. “That’s really sweet of him.”

“Would you mind holding Mr. Chestnut for a little longer while I write a quick response?”

“Sure.”

Until now Yeosang had forgotten that he’d planned to write Jongho a letter today anyway. He reached into the bag from Scrivenshaft’s and produced a piece of parchment as well as the quill he’d bought.

_Dear Jongho._

_Thanks for your letter. Mr. Chestnut is adorable. He tried to bust through the Three Broomsticks’ kitchen window though, so I think he might need some more practice._

_I’m doing well. Seonghwa keeps me company, though hanging out with him involves a little more studying and school-talk than I’d like. I wanted to get out of the castle for a bit so Mingi and I went to Hogsmeade together. I got you some bags of nuts from Honeydukes ‘cause I know how much you like them._

_About the rent: sorry I’m late. I promise to pay you back with calculated interest..._

_Four days are too long,_

_Yeosang_

“Tell him I said hi.”

_Ps: Mingi says hi._

Hoping that his response wasn’t too lame, Yeosang folded the parchment and secured it to Mr. Chestnut’s leg. He took the owl outside, not wanting to risk him trying to leave through the kitchen window again. Mr. Chestnut’s enthusiasm resurfaced as soon as Yeosang told him the letter was for Jongho. He took off immediately, wildly flapping his tiny wings as he disappeared in the night.

Once Yeosang had returned to their table, they continued to eat their soups. Mingi remained awfully silent. Was he still annoyed about the rude waiter? Was he mad about Yeosang getting distracted by Jongho’s letter? Or… was it because of the letter itself?

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Yeosang finally spoke up. “Have you gotten any letters from Yunho since Christmas break started?”

“Yup.”

“Oh,” said Yeosang, surprised.

“Yeah. It was a really…” Mingi searched for the word, “ _friendly_ letter.” His voice was dripping with bitterness.

Yunho was another person Yeosang didn’t know too much about. The only class they shared was Charms, and they barely had anything to do with each other outside of that. Yunho was a good student, popular among teachers and students alike, and as far as Yeosang could tell, a friendly and reliable guy. From what he’d heard, Yunho and Mingi used to be best friends until about a year ago, when Yunho confessed his love to Mingi all of a sudden and Mingi rejected him because… well, Yeosang wasn’t completely sure why. Ever since then, the two of them had avoided and seemingly hated each other, until both of them ended up being roped into Wooyoung’s rescue, which had forced them to work together. Again, Yeosang didn’t know any details, but after they had safely brought Wooyoung back, Yunho and Mingi became friends again.

However, something about the look on Mingi’s face told Yeosang that being friends with Yunho hadn’t been his goal. He was grumpily slurping the last bits of his soup, his focus directed outside the window.

Yeosang hesitated, reluctant to ask him about the issue. “Did you want it to be more than just friendly?”

Mingi shot him a trying glance, as if to check whether he was making fun of him or not. Then he looked away again and sighed. “I don’t know. I’m not sure what I want anymore, to be honest.” There was a long pause before he decided to elaborate. Yeosang quietly watched him. “Whenever I’m alone with him, I feel like we’re actually connecting and getting along again. I get the feeling that there’s something between us,” he explained. “But as soon as other people are around, he suddenly acts so distant. He acts like I’m not even there and focuses all his attention on other guys. That, or he finds something about me he can joke with them about. Most of the time it’s very light-hearted, but that’s not what he used to be like at all. It’s like he becomes a totally different person, like he’s not the Yunho I know.”

Yeosang was genuinely taken aback. He’d been under the impression that Yunho liked Mingi back, and the two of them were just the type of on-and-off couple that couldn’t get their act together. But the hurt in Mingi’s eyes showed him that it was far unhealthier than that. It was clear as day. If what Mingi said was true – which Yeosang couldn’t help but believe – then Yunho’s behavior messed with Mingi more than he usually let on. Did Yunho not realize that he was hurting Mingi?

“I don’t wanna overstep but what is it that you like so much about Yunho?” Yeosang blurted out. He half-expected Mingi to snap at him for asking that. Yeosang wasn’t even sure why he had. But surprisingly, he didn’t. He merely raised a questioning eyebrow at him. “The way he’s acting is obviously affecting you. I can’t help but wonder…why him?”

“Look, I also don’t know. We were never even supposed to be like this in the first place. I wasn’t supposed to start feeling stuff for him.” Mingi frowned. “But after I’d rejected him, I’d always see him with those other guys and… I felt so mad and betrayed in a way. It felt like a stab right in my chest. I just wanted to punch those guys for looking at him the way they did, for putting their lips even remotely near him. And it only got so much worse when he started seeing _Hongjoong_.”

“Hongjoong? Why?”

“Because he’s everything I’m not!” Mingi took a chug of his butterbeer and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “He can give Yunho everything I can’t.”

It started to dawn on Yeosang what the real problem here was. This was probably Yunho’s way of dealing with Mingi’s rejection from a year ago – throwing himself at other guys in an attempt to make Mingi jealous. Was that the only reason why he was dating Hongjoong? Was he just using Hongjoong for his plan? Or was Hongjoong aware of it? Yeosang wouldn’t put it past that guy to support someone’s feelings being messed with, even if it was purely out of boredom.

Mingi looked miserable. He stared down at his hands as he absent-mindedly let his fingers fidget around with his glass of butterbeer. It was almost empty.

Yeosang felt bad for having brought up the topic in the first place. He reached for Mingi’s hand. “Mingi…”

“Everyone loves him,” he spat bitterly. “He’s great at magic, he’s a Quidditch legend, he’s the best in every subject, he’s attractive, he’s charming, he’s experienced with everything…”

“Oh, come on. Hongjoong isn’t all that great.”

“Yunho seems to think he is. Maybe he’s better off just being friends with me. I can’t compare to his _perfect_ boyfriend anyway.”

“If you ask me, Hongjoong is nothing but a smooth talker who knows how to get into guys’ pants,” he said, surprised at the bitterness in his own voice. He wasn’t a great fan of Hongjoong. Every single conversation he’d had with him so far had ended with Yeosang feeling irritated.

Mingi scowled. “ _I_ don’t know how to get into a guy’s pants...”

Yeosang let out a laugh. “And you don’t _have_ to know that! The difference between you and Hongjoong is that you’re genuine. You’re real. You’re not afraid to show who you really are,” he said. “I mean don’t take this the wrong way, but I think you could probably have any guy you want in this castle. They might not throw their boxers at you, but any guy would fall for someone as hot as you.”

Mingi blushed hard at those words. A shy smile appeared on his face as he sheepishly scratched the back of his head. “You’re exaggerating…”

“I’m just stating the facts. You’re tall, you’re funny, you’re loyal, and you’re handsome. Honestly, Yunho doesn’t know what he’s missing.” Yeosang had no idea where the confidence to say all that had come from, but it seemed to work. His little ego-boost had successfully saved Mingi’s mood.

His shy smile had turned into a confident grin. “Man, hearing that from someone like you feels kinda nice _._ ”

“Someone like me?”

“I told you, you’re popular.”

“So is San and he’s your best friend.”

“Yeah, but he’s San and you’re… Yeosang.”

“Well… yeah.”

Once again, they both burst into laughter.

“Thanks.” Mingi smiled brightly. “For hearing me out and stuff. Honestly, you’re that dude.”

Yeosang wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but he still returned his smile. Hopefully he’d been able to help him at least a little. “It’s the least I can do.”

Mingi ordered another round of butterbeer and cheerfully began talking about how he’d gotten himself in trouble with Professor Knotts when he, San, and Yeonjun had enchanted the blackboard to spit chalk at everyone in the classroom. Yeosang chuckled at his story, but somehow, his mind still hadn’t quite let their previous conversation topic go yet.

Was Yunho really oblivious to how much his public relationships hurt Mingi? If he still liked him, wouldn't he want to not hurt Mingi? What was he gaining from this behavior? Did it make him feel better about himself? Or to get Mingi’s attention. If so, why had he suggested being just friends? If he was so over Mingi, why would he lead him on whenever the two were alone? If Yunho was really using Hongjoong to get back at Mingi for rejecting him, then that was truly a mean thing to do.

Yeosang shook the thought out of his head. He found it hard to believe that somebody who seemed as nice as Yunho would be that cunning. Maybe it was something completely different. It wasn’t Yeosang’s business anyway. He had no idea why this bothered him so much.

After two more hours of chatting, Mingi and Yeosang left the Three Broomsticks and made their way back to the castle. Slightly tipsy, the two of them stepped into the Entrance Hall just in time for curfew. Yeosang was laughing about another mischievous tale Mingi had told him about when he realized that they had to split up as their common rooms lay in different directions. They shared a hug and Yeosang suggested they spend time again tomorrow. Mingi enthusiastically agreed.

Basking in his good mood – Yeosang wasn’t sure if it came from the three glasses of alcoholic butterbeer, the great time he’d had with Mingi, or Jongho’s letter – he practically flew up the stairs to the Ravenclaw Tower. The common room was deserted as ever when he entered. He took his coat, scarf, and bags to the dorm room he had all to himself and dumped them next to his bed before he changed into a plain white shirt and pink sweat shorts. Then he went back to the common room and headed for the shared bathroom to wash up.

When he pushed open the door, he was met by none other than Seonghwa wearing nothing but long sapphire blue sweatpants. His wet hair stuck to his forehead and he had a gray towel draped over his bare shoulder. The air in the bathroom was hot and humid. He must’ve just gotten out of the shower. His eyes widened once he saw Yeosang.

“Oh, hey,” said Yeosang. “Didn’t know you were in there.”

“Sorry.” Seonghwa looked down at himself and chuckled nervously, causing a few water drops to fall from the tips of his hair onto his chest. His cheeks turned pink. “I was about to head to sleep and didn’t expect anybody down here past curfew.”

“I ended up spending more time in Hogsmeade than expected. I just got back.”

“Oh, you went by yourself? You came back pretty late.” Seonghwa reconsidered. “I-I mean… sorry I couldn't join you.”

Yeosang giggled and waved off. Jeez, he was tipsier than he’d originally thought. “No, it’s fine. I went with Mingi.”

Seonghwa seemed genuinely surprised. “Mingi?”

“He and I bought me the quill and then stayed at the Three Broomsticks for a few hours.”

“I see.” Seonghwa studied Yeosang’s face. His expression was unreadable. Yeosang blamed his tipsiness for making him slow at picking up on social cues.

In fact, it made him a little drowsy too.

“Are you okay?” asked Seonghwa as Yeosang leaned against the tiled bathroom wall. “You look a little… unstable.”

“Just a little tipsy. I had three _special_ butterbeers. I’ll be in bed soon, so it’s okay.”

Seonghwa nodded apprehensively.

“How did it go, by the way?” Yeosang asked after a pause. “With your mom, I mean.”

A smile crept onto Seonghwa’s face. “Good. It was comfortable. I helped her until half an hour before curfew. I was going to stay, but she wouldn’t let me,” he said. “She seemed even more stressed than yesterday, though. Probably because she’s still drowning in paperwork.”

He seemed worried, but Yeosang could tell that his improving relationship with his mother made him happy. “I’m sure she’ll be able to power through it if you continue to help her.”

Seonghwa’s smile widened, his eyes sparkling with delight. “I hope so.”

Once again, he studied Yeosang’s face. Not just that, he seemed to be studying his every feature. He looked at him with such intensity that Yeosang couldn’t help but break their eye contact.

Seonghwa cleared his throat. “Well, I should get going,” he stammered awkwardly. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

And with that, Seonghwa squeezed past Yeosang and left him alone in the steamy bathroom, feeling dizzy.


	2. Thursday, January 5th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays, ATINY!   
> Thanks for making it through 2020 <3
> 
> Enjoy the chapter and leave a comment if you do~

**Thursday, January 5th. 11:17AM. Hogwarts, Headmistress’ Office. Park Seonghwa.**

Most people probably did not prefer to spend their mornings going through paperwork. Especially if it wasn’t even their job and they could be doing something more entertaining instead. Seonghwa didn’t mind. In fact, he even enjoyed it in a way. He liked the organizational nature of it. He’d always been the kind of person who liked to live a set schedule. Wake up, have breakfast, go to class. And if he didn’t have class because of something beyond his control (like Christmas break for instance), he’d compensate for it with self-study. It was simply more efficient to get things done early. Work first, play later.

That’s why he hadn’t been too bothered about the note his mother had sent him this morning. He’d already finished his compulsory two hours of studying when it arrived in the common room. It wasn’t like he’d had much else to do lately. Helping her with organize her paperwork had just become another point in Seonghwa’s daily Christmas break schedule. One that he found himself looking forward to.

Upon entering her office, she’d greeted him with a fresh mug of steaming coffee as well as a tower of files and documents she asked him to sort. He’d wordlessly grabbed a chair, sat down at the desk across from her, and gotten started on his task. He soon fell into a comfortable rhythm of breaking down his pile of paperwork into three new piles: a ‘ _send_ ’ pile, an ‘ _important_ ’ pile, and an ‘ _archive_ ’ pile.

The small wooden clock on the desk between them quietly ticked away as Seonghwa and his mother worked in silence. She disliked being interrupted, so Seonghwa knew better than to start a conversation. He wouldn’t know what to say anyway; small talk wasn’t exactly his specialty.

Unlike yesterday, the sky outside was gray with snow clouds, thick flakes silently flying past the windows. It didn’t look like it was going to stop snowing anytime soon. Good thing Seonghwa wasn’t planning on going outside today. This time of year, most parts of the castle were rather chilly, but luckily the fire in the Headmistress’ office was alight and provided the room with a pleasant warmth.

The ‘ _archive_ ’ pile quickly became the highest of the three piles Seonghwa had established. A majority of the documents consisted of records about updates in lesson structure, important schedules, and a couple of letters from the Ministry of Magic. Some of them even addressed the minister directly. The rest of the documents were folders that contained files about the staff at Hogwarts that needed to be updated every few months before they were put back to the archive.

Seonghwa faltered for a moment when one particular folder fell into his hands. Thick and wrapped in fancy blood-red leather, its cover read _Professor David Donovan._

Seonghwa hesitated and stared. Did this folder perhaps hold Professor Donovan’s old application form? His resignation letter? Maybe even records of his time as a Hogwarts student and other background information? His fingers itched with curiosity, but he knew that these files were highly confidential. Seonghwa didn’t want to break the trust his mother bestowed on him by letting him handle them. Besides, it wasn’t right to snoop around other people’s business. He’d done that one too many times. He reluctantly put the folder on the ‘ _archive_ ’ pile.

He snuck a glance at his mother to make sure she hadn’t caught him faltering and took a sip of the coffee she’d made for him. Not too sweet, not too bitter; the smooth flavor was just right.

Seonghwa resumed his task. He found himself fall back into the automation of examining the documents and putting them on the correct file rather easily. His friends would probably deem this type of activity as empty or monotone, but Seonghwa viewed it as something he did well. The only reason his grades were excellent was the fact that he read many of books and diligently practiced magic every day. Not because he was particularly talented.

If he ended up working at the ministry one day, he’d probably be doing this all day. His mother had always wanted that for him, a job at the ministry. But did he want that too? To be honest, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do after he graduated from Hogwarts. He’d never given it much thought. He’d always accepted the plan his mother had in store for him without questioning it. Next time he was free, maybe he’d read a book on career advice.

“How’s your break been going?”

Seonghwa startled at the sound of his mother’s voice. He’d almost forgotten she was here. Almost. She looked back at him with her usual emotionally neutral expression, waiting for his response.

“Good.” His voice came out rough since he hadn’t used it all morning. He cleared his throat. “I’ve been spending time with, uh, Yeosang.”

“Kang Yeosang? Jung Wooyoung’s friend?”

A spark of old wariness shot through Seonghwa. Was she going to tell him not to associate with him because of what happened with Wooyoung? “Yeah.”

She nodded slowly, staring into the fire. Her focus had shifted inward. “He was the only fifth-year to receive an ‘Outstanding’ for his O.W.L exam in both Potions and Astronomy over the past few years,” she said. Then she reconsidered. “Well, besides you, of course. But he’s a decent student.”

“He’s an even better person.”

She dragged her eyes away from the fireplace to regard Seonghwa. “I’m sure he is.”

An awkward pause followed in which she studied him carefully. Seonghwa shifted in his seat. He remembered his coffee and quickly took another sip.

“Do you… like him?”

Seonghwa almost choked. He set down the mug, coughing. “He has a boyfriend. Kind of.”

A mysterious smile appeared on his mother’s face. She even let out a quiet chuckle. “I see.”

Seonghwa wasn’t sure what exactly she’d meant by that, but he returned her smile. Her smile was slightly crooked, much like his own tended to be. Seonghwa resembled his father a lot more than he resembled his mother, but they still shared their raven hair and dark eyes. And their smile.

Her smile lingered even after she’d continued to work. Seonghwa soon followed her example. He was simply glad he and his mother were getting more comfortable around each other. Things hadn’t been this good between them since his father had died in a work-related accident. Seonghwa hadn’t seen his mother smile like this - much less heard her laugh - since then either. It was like a short glimpse at the good relationship the two of them used to have before the accident.

About twenty minutes had passed before Seonghwa found the next document that caught his attention. It was the copy of an application form for a man named Zachary Abston. He’d applied for the position as the new Divination professor at Hogwarts. Seeing as the document had been signed by Seonghwa’s mother, he’d gotten accepted.

“Oh, you finally found a replacement for Professor Donovan,” he blurted out before he could stop himself. This time around, he was too curious to not take a closer look. His mother had been searching for a new professor for almost a month. Seonghwa scanned his curriculum vitae. “He worked as the head of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes for ten years? Interesting. I wonder what made him change his profession so drastically.”

His mother glanced up, eyes wide. “What?”

It was true. Department Head at the Ministry of Magic was a position most witches and wizards could only dream of. Why would anyone throw that away for a teaching position of an insignificant subject at Hogwarts?

Seonghwa held up the document. “That’s what it says right here,” he said, pointing at it. “Anyway. Which pile should I put this on?” His mother didn’t respond. Her complexion had turned almost as white as the snow outside as she looked at Seonghwa. He frowned. “Are you alright? Should I get you some water?”

Sometimes his old ways of behaving like an assistant rather than a son towards her resurfaced. He was already about to get up to look for a glass when his mother leaned forward and ripped Zachary Abston’s application out of his hands.

She hectically put the document onto Seonghwa’s ‘ _archive_ ’ pile before putting another handful of documents on top of it in an attempt to cover it. “I think you’ve helped enough.”

“But I only – ”

“Take this to the archive and go study afterwards,” she ordered. “I’ve taken up enough of your time already.” The smile from earlier had completely vanished from her features, as if it had never been there in the first place. Her tone had made it clear that right now, she wasn’t his mother. She was Headmistress Park, and Seonghwa was just another prefect student.

“Understood,” said Seonghwa, back to the old distance and professionalism that used to be a constant between them. “Should I sort them into their appropriate drawers in the archive?” Not that he wanted to spend any more time in there than he absolutely had to. The archive had always creeped him out.

“No, don’t bother. I’ll have Professor Longbottom do it,” she said. “Focus on your studies while you can. I expect nothing but flawless results for your N.E.W.Ts.”

“Of course, mother.”

Seonghwa got out of his chair and grabbed the ‘ _archive_ ’ pile before turning to leave. She remained silent when he reached the door and threw one more look over his shoulder. Her expression was unreadable.

Balancing the tower of documents in his arms as he walked down the stairs outside her office, guilt washed over Seonghwa. It had been foolish of him to begin a casual conversation with her. He’d been out of line. He’d tapped into something that wasn’t his business. Maybe he was the only one who’d had the feeling that they were getting more comfortable with each other. He should’ve just quietly continued working.

He came to a halt as soon as he was out in the hallway, sighing. An unpleasant feeling that he couldn’t quite explain spread in his chest. How was he ever going to have a somewhat normal relationship with his mother if she kept shutting him out at the slightest mistake?

Seonghwa let out a yelp of surprise when an unforeseen force nearly knocked him over. A pair of arms wrapped around his neck and he had to work hard not to drop his documents. Someone pressed their body against his back in a tight hug. He’d been ambushed. “Boo!”

He relaxed almost instantly when he heard the familiar melodic laugh come from right behind him. “Yeosang! You scared the living hell out of me!”

“Sorry,” Yeosang said and released him. He was holding his stomach with laughter. Seonghwa turned around to face his attacker. “I came by here looking for you and it was just too perfect. Your reaction was priceless!”

Heat rose Seonghwa’s cheeks and a smile appeared on his lips. _I came by here looking for you._ Yeosang had a habit of covering his mouth with his hand when he laughed, but Seonghwa could still see past it. His canine teeth resembled the fangs of a little vampire. It was adorable.

“What’s all that?” Yeosang pointed at the pile of documents in Seonghwa’s arms.

“Oh, that” said Seonghwa, looking down at it. He’d completely forgotten about it. “Just a bunch of files and such. My mother wants me to take them to the archive.”

“We have an archive?”

“Of course. It’s near the library on the second floor.”

Yeosang huffed in thought. “More than five years at this school and the castle is still full of mysteries.”

“It’s off limits for regular students. Only certain professors are allowed inside and, well, me sometimes,” explained Seonghwa. “You said you were looking for me?”

“Right. I was hoping to invite you to lunch and a hot butterbeer!”

Every reasonable cell inside Seonghwa’s body wanted to resist. _You can’t. You’re supposed to go right back to studying after you take these documents to the archive._ But a tiny rebellious part of his brain reminded him that he’d already revised _Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms_ and _Advanced Rune Translation_ for two hours this morning. So technically, he’d already gotten a bunch of work done, right? If he got right back to studying first thing tomorrow, surely spending the rest of his day with Yeosang wouldn’t hurt. He’d be able to make up for canceling plans with him yesterday.

“I totally understand if you’re too busy with your duties, though. I can just – ”

“No!” Seonghwa interrupted promptly. “No, I’d love to go with you.”

Yeosang beamed. He was captivating. _He also has a boyfriend_. “Sweet! How much time do you need to do your archive stuff?”

Seonghwa was tempted to drop the pile of documents and leave it in a corner somewhere just to say, _I’m ready to go right now if you like._ He pushed the unreasonable impulse aside. “Give me ten minutes.”

“Deal. You can meet Mingi and I in the Entrance Hall as soon as you’re ready.”

Seonghwa’s heart sank. He’d assumed that it was going to be just him and Yeosang. Then his higher reasoning kicked in and he immediately scolded himself mentally. What was he even thinking? So what if Mingi came along? He’d said it himself no more than thirty minutes ago. Yeosang had a boyfriend. He was with Jongho. Kind of. And Seonghwa had no problem with that. He masked his disappointment by forcing a smile. “Wonderful.”

Yeosang returned his smile, oblivious to the little crisis happening in Seonghwa’s mind. “See you in a bit!” he said cheerfully and left for the Entrance Hall.

Seonghwa looked after him until he disappeared. Apparently, he’d gotten himself a date with Yeosang and Mingi in no less than ten minutes. He sighed and turned on his heel to head to the archive. Maybe he’d stop by the library to look for a book on how to get a taken man out of one’s head.

**Thursday, January 5th. 02:12PM. Hogwarts, Fourth Floor. Kim Hongjoong.**

Having spent around three days in his deserted dorm room, basking in blissful solitude, Hongjoong decided he wanted a change of scenery. After he’d had breakfast in the Great Hall, he’d mindlessly strolled through the endless corridors the castle had to offer. When he’d reached the fourth floor, an idea finally crossed his mind. He hadn’t paid his little friends a visit in a while. They always made good company.

Hongjoong followed the arched corridor almost all the way to the end, past the Study Area and all the classrooms. He took a moment to look left and right before he approached the shabby old bookshelf. He mainly did it out of habit, seeing as the castle was practically empty during Christmas break, and the only person insane enough to even come near the Study Area was Seonghwa. Once he deemed the hallway clear, Hongjoong pushed aside the bookshelf and revealed a wooden door. He choked up a little, thanks to all the dust he’d stirred up in the process. The caretaker seemed to be doing a sloppy job back here. Hongjoong opened the door and entered the room he had grown so accustomed to by now.

The square room was fairly small and cramped with wooden chairs and desks that were covered in another thick layer of dust. One had to squeeze past all the useless furniture to cross it. Countless pots of plants and flowers occupied every available surface. Some plants were tiny and hidden away in the shadows of the broad shelf that covered the left wall whole, others were tall enough to reach up to the low ceiling, branching out gleefully into the light coming through the large window on the opposite side of the door. A million particles of dust floated through the air, proving just how unknown this place was. Hongjoong was the only human who bothered to set foot into this place.

However, as soon as he made his way further into the room to reach the small ledge beneath the window, the room began to buzz with life. Plants that had seemed inanimate before stretched as if they had been asleep, curiously raised their heads to inspect Hongjoong, or hid away behind another plant. But that wasn’t all. With every step he took, more and more creatures of all shapes and sizes came crawling out of their hiding spots. A grin spread across Hongjoong’s lips.

This was the place he escaped to whenever he was bored, needed to clear his mind or simply wanted to get away from human contact. Nobody wanted anything from him in here. They couldn’t even find him. He’d garnered this vast variety of plants and creatures on his occasional trips to the Forbidden Forest. Some of the plants he used as his personal potion ingredients (like his _Arnica_ , _Jewelweed_ , _Asphodel_ , _Star Grass_ , and his _Baneberry Bush_ ), others he kept in order to observe their behaviors simply because he found them intriguing (like his beloved _Windroots_ ), and another dozen of them he preserved to protect them from extinction (like his _Alihotsy_ ). As for the creatures, most of them had been abandoned in the forest or sneaking around the dark corners of the castle, often while injured. One day, Hongjoong had decided to nurture them until they were ready to go back to the Forbidden Forest - all in exchange for their temporary company.

And they soon became the only ones who wouldn’t abuse his trust the way the humans around him tended to.

As he passed the last set of desks near the window, one of the _Windroots_ leaned into his path as if to reach out to him. He chuckled and gently pat its head. Satisfied by the gesture, it cleared the way and Hongjoong plopped down in his usual spot on the ledge by the window. As soon as he’d set down his brown leather bag, he spotted a tiny, crimson-colored creature peek at him from between the two stones he’d placed in the far corner of the ledge.

The creature was the timid little fire-salamander Hongjoong had encountered in the forest in summer around two years ago. He was missing a claw and though Hongjoong didn’t know how he’d lost it, he figured that it was probably the reason why he still didn’t quite trust him. He’d dubbed him Mars. Hongjoong smiled and held out a hand to him.

Mars didn’t budge and merely gave him an uncertain glance.

“Care to come closer? I have mealworms for you.” Hongjoong held up a small container. Hesitantly, Mars crawled out of his hiding spot, the fiery yellow and orange markings on his skin making it look as if flames encased him. Hongjoong opened the container and Mars leaned into it, greedily eating the mealworms. “There you go.”

Once Mars was done eating, he silently climbed into Hongjoong’s hand and looked up at him with gratefulness sparkling in his black eyes. Being a fire salamander, Mars felt extremely warm in Hongjoong’s palm, almost like an animate magical heat pack.

Hongjoong regarded him with surprise. “You’re really starting to warm up to me, huh?”

That’s when something else caught Mars’ attention and his eyes shot toward the ceiling. Hongjoong followed his gaze. Mars’ eyes were fixed on a flying gray creature that resembled a plump platypus. Little flying membranes stretched between her legs on each side of her body helped her glide around in circles about two feet above Hongjoong’s head. Hongjoong had called her Diamond, because of the blueish purple shine her fur had whenever she flew.

After cheerfully soaring through the air in another circle, Diamond nosedived straight downward and smoothly landed in Hongjoong’s lap. She shook out her fur before glaring at Mars. Intimidated, he scrambled away and disappeared behind the pot of Hongjoong’s _Deadly Wissac_.

“Oh, come on, Diamond. You scared him off,” complained Hongjoong. “Do you know how hard it was to gain his trust?” Diamond let out a sulky squeal and curled into a fluffy ball, hiding her face in Hongjoong’s robes. She was clingy as ever. Hongjoong shook his head and lured her back out by feeding her some insect larvae he stored in another container.

Once she was satisfied, Hongjoong reached into the chest pocket of his robes and produced a small roll of parchment. It was a letter he’d received from Yunho this morning that he hadn’t read right away. He’d just begun to unroll it when he felt a light hug on his sleeve.

Next to him on the ledge, he spotted a tiny bright green Bowtruckle the size of a hand with long sharp fingers and a cracked leaf growing out of his head. He looked up at Hongjoong expectantly, most likely wondering if he had a snack for him too. “In a moment, Honeysuckle,” said Hongjoong. “I have to read this.”

_Joong._

_Sorry for writing you another letter about this, but I’m still losing sleep over it. It’s literally three in the morning right now._

_Should I just tell him? If I tell Mingi that you and I never actually dated and that I never stopped being head over heels for him… I don’t know maybe it’ll work without making things complicated again. I hate pretending to be friends with him when I write him. I keep wanting to sneak in an ‘I miss you,’ if not an ‘I love you by the way.’ It’s like I can’t think about anything but him these days. Am I going crazy?_

_The only reason I’m not doing it is what you said a month ago. But I don’t know about that anymore, Joong. Are you still positive this is a good idea? I can’t stand the thought of him possibly getting tired of this jealousy game and moving on to somebody else... But if you’re one hundred percent sure about the plan, I’ll do it. I trust you._

_See you soon,_

_Yunho_

Hongjoong sighed and let the letter slide back into his pocket. A part of him was slightly bitter that Yunho still doubted his plan even after the countless reassurances Hongjoong had given him.

He had no choice but to finish the plan he’d started. As much as he wanted Yunho and Mingi to end up together eventually, he simply couldn’t let that happen yet. He wasn’t ready to go back to the miserable state he’d been in before he’d started to rely on Yunho.

Granted, maybe it was a little selfish of him to stall Yunho’s relationship with Mingi solely to prioritize his own issues. However, he couldn’t quite find it in himself to care right now. In his defense, it wasn’t like he was hurting anyone. Just stalling something that was most likely going to happen anyway. And if Mingi fell out of love with Yunho in the meantime, it was his own damn fault. It was his loss, after all.

He’d just keep this little game going for a little bit longer. Only until he was ready to let go.

He let a hand run through Diamond’s soft fur while he absent-mindedly watched the baby Devil’s Snare he’d stored in a big glass box sitting in the shadows of the shelf to his right. Its tentacle-like appendages moved around restlessly, probably in constant search of something – or someone – to strangle.

An uncomfortable feeling nagged at Hongjoong, but he pushed it aside. He gave Honeysuckle some dried woodlice - he’d been tugging on Hongjoong’s sleeve the entire time – and pulled a writing quill from his bag. The fuss caused Diamond to take off and begin to fly around the room again. He scribbled his response on a small piece of parchment he found in the depths of his pocket. He kept it short.

_Yunho._

_Yes, I’m positive everything will be fine. I promise he won’t just fall out of love with you. If love was easy it’d be boring. Stop worrying, I’ve got everything under control, alright?_

_Love you,_

_Joong_

He read over the reply one more time before he folded it twice.

“And if it all goes wrong, at least I’ll still have you, right, Honeysuckle?” Hongjoong asked. Honeysuckle leaned against the palm of his hand and let out a content purr-like noise before he climbed up his robe and hid in his chest pocket. “You’re right. Let’s head to the Owlery and send this.”

**Thursday, January 5th. 02:30PM. Snowshill, Gloucestershire, 24 West End Lane, Wooyoung’s bedroom. Choi San.**

San loved Wooyoung’s house. Not particularly large, it was a cozy and friendly family home that gave off the scent of lavender, a flower that could be found in various plant pots all over the house. Almost every available spot on the delicate purple walls held pictures of Wooyoung and his parents beaming happily or metals Wooyoung had won for athletic extracurriculars in muggle elementary school. Everything about it was so… _Wooyoung_.

Even his bedroom perfectly reflected his bright personality. His walls were mostly occupied with posters of the Chudley Cannons – Wooyoung’s favorite Quidditch team – though he had also made space for one picture he and San had taken late last summer, in which San’s picture self kissed Wooyoung’s cheek. His shelves were a little cluttered with all kinds of plushies he’d kept from his childhood, unsorted books, and moving pictures of him and Yeosang as children. Here too, the theme was purple – his favorite color. Purple curtains, purple carpet, purple bedsheets. San loved everything about it.

They’d spent a good chunk of the morning sleeping in until around nine o’clock. San would’ve been fine staying in bed all day, but Wooyoung had insisted they at least eat breakfast. He’d prepared some apple vanilla pancakes for the two of them to enjoy while listening to the radio. San may or may not have coaxed him into dramatically dancing around the dining table with him, as if the dining area was a ballroom. He’d simply been unable to resist.

Around noon, Mr. Jung stepped out of the living room fireplace with a carton of paperwork in his arms. He’d brought his work home today, claiming that the workspace in his department had been too hectic for him to be productive and that he’d taken his paperwork and left in order to at least get something done. He’d quickly disappeared upstairs, which had once again left San and Wooyoung with the rest of the house to themselves.

That’s how they’d ended up back in Wooyoung’s room, where they sat cross-legged on the bed and played video games. San had really gotten the hang of those. Wooyoung had introduced him to a racing game called _Reckless Velocity_ , in which they played round after round of trying to overtake each other on a racetrack in fancy super cars. Not only was the game fun, but it also gave San an excuse to put his arm around Wooyoung’s shoulders and keep him close as they played.

They’d been at it for two hours when Wooyoung threw up his hands and let out a frustrated groan. Demotivated, he leaned back against San’s chest. San had won four rounds in a row. “Why do you have to be good at _everything_?”

San tried and failed to hide a triumphant grin. “Oh, come on,” he said and reached out to poke Wooyoung’s cheek. “There are plenty of things I’m not good at.”

“Yeah? For example?”

“I suck at, uh, History of Magic. And I can’t cook to save my life.”

“Oh, be quiet.” Wooyoung laughed. “I don’t know anybody in our year except Yunho who doesn’t suck at History of Magic, and I’m sure your cooking isn’t that bad.”

“That’s because you’ve never tasted it. And I promise you, you never will.” San shuddered at the memory of himself attempting to fry an egg for his sister once. He’d never dared to even show his face _near_ the fire department since. A pout formed on Wooyoung’s face as San comfortingly grazed his cheek. “Look, why don’t we make this game more interesting,” he suggested. “How about this. We keep playing this game, but every round, the loser has to take off a piece of clothing.”

Wooyoung considered him for a moment, clearly intrigued. It wasn’t like they were wearing a whole lot of clothes. San had put on Wooyoung’s scarlet red Chudley Cannons hoodie (the one he claimed he would never entrust anyone else with), thick winter socks, and a pair of slim gray sweatpants, while Wooyoung wore a fluffy beige long sleeve, a black beanie, and black sweatpants. But the fewer options in clothes they could take off, the better, right?

“Are you sure?” asked Wooyoung. “I won’t go easy on you just because you’re new to this.”

“Excuse me, have you not seen me win the past four rounds?”

“Beginner’s luck only gets you so far.”

“It’s on, then.”

Wooyoung shot him a grin and sat back up. “It’s _so_ on.”

San’s competitiveness boiled in his chest, and he knew Wooyoung felt the same. It didn’t take long until the game had started once more, their eyes glued to the screen as they let their virtual cars speed past all sorts of boosts and obstacles, trying to push each other off track. San hadn’t put this much effort into something for a long time. Then again, the stakes had never been this high either.

Five minutes later, San had won the first round. “That’s no longer beginner’s luck, baby. That’s pure skill,” he teased.

Wooyoung scowled and took off his beanie, throwing it across the room. “Yeah, whatever.”

“Really?” San scoffed. “Such a tease.”

“You should’ve specified _which_ piece of clothing.”

Their bickering continued into the second round. Both of them leaned toward the screen, extremely focused. This time, Wooyoung emerged as the winner. San pulled off his socks.

When Wooyoung won the third round as well, it was his turn to get cocky. “Where’d your skill go all of a sudden?”

“Are you that eager to see me strip?” San asked, already in the process of taking off Wooyoung’s beloved hoodie.

Wooyoung smirked. “Maybe.”

“I’ll end you.”

The fourth round cost Wooyoung his socks, and the fifth round became their tightest match yet. San emerged victorious and watched triumphantly as Wooyoung rid himself of his long sleeve.

“Alright, final round. Whoever loses this one loses their sweatpants,” Wooyoung declared.

“Deal.”

The final round seemed to go on forever. The two of them kept overtaking each other, taking turns in gaining the lead. San was already about to accept defeat after Wooyoung had held the lead for almost a minute when the unthinkable happened. Only about ten feet away from the goal, Wooyoung hit an obstacle.

“No!” he cried, mashing the buttons of his controller in frustration. There was no saving it. His car spun out of control and allowed San to swiftly speed past him.

“Ha! You lose!” San exclaimed and thrust his fist into the air. Wooyoung collapsed on the bed in defeat. San couldn’t hold his laughter. “Do you want me to take them off for you?”

“Shut up, I’ll do it myself,” grumbled Wooyoung. He pulled on the drawstring of his sweatpants in order to loosen the knot, but the only thing he accomplished was to entangle it. Still basking in his victory, San put aside his controller while Wooyoung struggled with his pants. He turned to watch Wooyoung, ready to assist if he happened to need a hand.

Until now, San hadn’t realized he’d been so preoccupied trying to win the game, that he hadn’t properly looked at Wooyoung.

Most of the time, he regarded Wooyoung as cute because of the bright smile he liked to wear and his overall cheerful and lively personality. Of course, this wasn’t his first time seeing his boyfriend without a shirt. But for some reason, something about this situation felt different. Seeing him lie there, shirtless and biting his lower lip as he struggled to loosen the knot that held up his sweatpants, San was struck by Wooyoung’s charms in a completely way. He’d forgotten how sexy Wooyoung could be. He wasn’t heavily muscled or anything, but still fairly lean due to his regular Quidditch practices. His brown hair fell into his face just right, his lips looked incredibly soft, and the tiny mole underneath his left eye complimented his complexion perfectly. And… had his skin always looked this inviting? Even though nothing had changed, something about him was just so alluring right now.

And unbelievably, for the first time, it hit San. He had Wooyoung all to himself. He was completely and utterly his. His heart began to race. San was so captivated that he didn’t even realize that Wooyoung had finally managed to untie the knot and kicked off his pants.

“Hey…” Wooyoung now looked up at San, his cheeks rosy. He nervously shifted under his stare. “Stop fucking me with your eyes.”

It was a comment so out of the blue and vulgar, San would’ve probably laughed if it hadn’t caught him so off guard. Instead, he blushed a little. “Sorry,” he heard himself say, still unable to take his eyes off Wooyoung. And before he could stop himself, he hovered over him and kissed him.

Wooyoung startled for a brief moment, though he didn’t waste any time melting into the kiss. His hands found their way around San, pulling him closer. To San, this kiss felt like home. It contained the sweetness of passion, a million loving thoughts condensed into a moment.

San didn’t stop at his lips. His lips brushed over Wooyoung’s neck, his collarbone, and his chest, all the way down to his stomach while he let his fingers graze his inner thigh, leaving him breathless. The quiet gasps that rolled over Wooyoung’s lips were like music to San’s ears.

They halted for only a moment when San returned to his lips and met his eyes. His hand still rested gently on Wooyoung’s thigh.

“What if your parents come in?” San asked in a whisper.

Wooyoung managed a smile. “Don’t worry,” he said and lost a hand in San’s hair, “they always knock.”

San gave a nod. That was all he needed to hear.

San wasn’t new to this. Quite the contrary, he’d fooled around with a bunch of guys before. And yet, he caught himself feeling somewhat nervous. He wondered if Wooyoung was nervous too. He let a gentle hand run down Wooyoung’s side, tracing the outline of his hipbone as he watched him shiver underneath his touch. He looked irresistible.

San never knew when Wooyoung was listening in on his thoughts and when he wasn’t, much less how much he heard. But a part of him hoped that he was listening to every single word right now. He wanted to make Wooyoung feel like a prince, like nothing he’d ever felt before in his life. He wanted to show Wooyoung just how much he really loved him.

Wooyoung wore a desperate expression. “Please.”

San finally reconnected their lips and pressed him into the soft bedsheets. Wooyoung wrapped his legs around him, locking him in place – not that there was any way he’d leave. Pure ecstasy ran through San’s body as he lost himself in that kiss. He let his hand roam Wooyoung’s body freely. He wanted to explore every inch of him, claim every last cell of his body as his.

Wooyoung had just begun to mess with the waistband of San’s sweatpants when a knock sounded against the door. They immediately jumped apart. Wooyoung’s eyes widened with panic, his lips glistening slightly.

He didn’t look like he could form proper words right away, so San was the one to call, “Um, what is it?”

Luckily, the door remained unopened. It would’ve been difficult to find an explanation for this incriminating scene; San sitting on Wooyoung’s bed without a shirt and his sweatpants hanging lowly on his hips, and Wooyoung on the other side pressed into his own pillows, all hot and bothered with nothing but his purple boxers on.

“Wooyoung, could you help your mother in the garden?” called Mr. Jung from the other side of the door. “The gnomes are back and they’re ruining our hedge.”

“S-sure, dad, I’ll be out in a minute!”

“Thanks, sweetie. San, you can help too if you’re good at throwing gnomes.”

“I am, sir.”

Mr. Jung chuckled. “Lovely.”

The two of them listened as his footsteps moved through the hallway towards his study, a door clicked, and he disappeared.

San finally released the breath he was holding. “Well, that was close.”

“Too close.”

“Awful timing too.”

“Yeah…”

A somewhat awkward silence took over them. Wooyoung scooted closer again and settled down in front of San. He wore an embarrassed smile. He still looked so beautiful, it almost hurt.

San moved a strand of hair behind Wooyoung’s ear and tried to suppress his disappointment. He shouldn’t have taken so much time. Then again, maybe it was a good thing that he had. He didn’t want to imagine what it would’ve been like if Mr. Jung had interrupted them in a later stage of their… act. Though, that realization didn’t change much about how bummed out San was.

His face must’ve given him away; Wooyoung suddenly burst out laughing. “Are you sulking?”

“Just a little.”

Wooyoung cooed and briefly pecked his lips. “Don’t be too disappointed. It was still nice while it lasted.”

San’s features softened. “It was. But next time I won’t let you off so easily.”

Wooyoung showed a cunning smirk. “I can’t wait.”

Every part of San wanted to just lock the door, push Wooyoung back down, and let those damn gnomes ruin Wooyoung’s mother’s hedge, for Merlin’s sake. But, in a great show of self-restraint, San put his clothes back on and threw on a jacket. Wooyoung seemed about as reluctant as him, yet he followed his example and the two of them headed downstairs and made their way outside through the back door. San was more than poised to at least throw the gnomes as far as he could to make sure they’d never come back.

**Thursday, January 5th. 04:05PM. Hogwarts, Front Courtyard. Park Seonghwa.**

Seonghwa wasn’t jealous. He simply found it interesting to observe how Yeosang and Mingi had become inseparable seemingly overnight. At least he didn’t remember them being this close before. In fact, Seonghwa hadn’t even seen Mingi around throughout the entirety of Christmas break and, until Yeosang had mentioned him last night, he’d been under the impression that he was one of the many people who’d gone home over the holidays. He also didn’t remember Yeosang being this touchy with anyone besides Wooyoung and, well, Jongho.

And yet, their trip to the Three Broomsticks had solely consisted of Mingi recounting various mischief tales about him and his Slytherin friends while Yeosang followed his every word with great interest, hanging on his every word and even leaning into his side when laughing. Seonghwa had spent most of the time just watching and listening as he’d sipped on his hot butterbeer, only really speaking when asked a question.

He didn’t know why the fact that Yeosang had brought Mingi along nagged at him so much. Seonghwa genuinely had nothing against the guy, but the longer he’d watched him joke around and get along so easily with Yeosang, the more irritated his mood had grown. None of Mingi’s stories had made Seonghwa laugh. They’d only made him take a mental note of relying to his mother that prefect authority should be strengthened. When they finally left, all Seonghwa could think about on the way back to the castle was that Yeosang never laughed at _his_ jokes like that. Granted, Seonghwa wasn’t much of a jokester, but he didn’t like the feeling that thought caused in him.

The falling snow showed no signs of stopping even after the three of them reached the snow-covered front courtyard. The footsteps that would’ve indicated their departure a few hours ago had already been veiled by a new powdery layer of dry and loose snow. It was almost a pity that their return was about to mar the level blanket of glittering whiteness once again.

Yeosang and Mingi didn’t seem to mind that at all, however. They happily marched into the courtyard, laughing about another one of Mingi’s stories. Something about how he and Yeonjun had enchanted Professor Snippet’s underpants - the ones from his drawers, not the ones he was wearing, Seonghwa hoped - to dance on the teacher’s desk in front of the whole classroom. Seonghwa found it rather outrageous to humiliate a professor like that.

“Wow,” said Yeosang in awe. “I can’t believe it snowed this much since we left.”

“I know, right?” Mingi reached down to scoop a handful of snow and formed a ball in his hands. Yeosang did the same.

Seonghwa trailed a few feet behind them. He didn’t feel like interacting with them.

Yeosang let out a small squeal. “It’s so cold!”

“Dude, it’s snow.” Mingi chuckled. “What did you expect?”

Yeosang looked adorable when he scowled. “Smartass.”

“Everyone needs a smartass sarcastic friend.” Mingi bowed. “I’m happy to be of service.”

“You know what else everyone needs?” Yeosang asked, and a mischievous grin spread across his pretty face. “A snowball to the face!”

He flung the snowball at Mingi so suddenly, the poor guy didn’t even have time to dodge. Though Yeosang hadn’t managed to hit him in the face because Mingi was considerably taller than him, the snowball shattered at Mingi’s shoulder, leaving a trail of white chunks on his robes.

Mingi dramatically clutched his shoulder as though an arrow had pierced him. “How could you?”

Yeosang’s contagious laugh rang through the air. “I just couldn’t resist, my liege.”

“You will regret this!” Mingi gathered another handful of snow, forged a ball and threw it at Yeosang. However, Yeosang was prepared. He giggled and jumped out of the way just in time. So instead, the ball hit Seonghwa right in the chest. Yeosang and Mingi froze and gave him uneasily looks as he wiped the snowball’s residue off his prefect badge.

He wasn’t sure what overcame him, but before either of them could react, Seonghwa formed a snowball of his own and launched it in Mingi’s direction with an unexpected amount of force. Mingi was too surprised to dodge it. The ball hit him right in the side of his neck, causing the snow to trickle into his scarf and possibly his robes as well. Yeosang burst into laughter, and even Seonghwa couldn’t hold back a satisfied grin at the way Mingi’s eyes widened.

Yeosang pointed at him, wheezing. “That’s what you get!”

Mingi laughed along and got some of the snow out of his scarf. “Oh, it’s so on!”

And before Seonghwa knew it, a snowball fight had broken out. Countless snowballs flew back and forth between Seonghwa and Mingi. Yeosang spent about a minute trying to decide whether he should join forces with Seonghwa or Mingi. But eventually, seeing as Seonghwa landed a lot more hits than Mingi did, he eventually deemed it fairer to join Mingi. Seonghwa took it as a compliment.

Yeosang was a rather defensive snowball fighter. He was extremely good at dodging attacks, but that also meant that he had less time to form snowballs for his own attacks, despite his decent aim. Mingi on the other hand was faster at producing snowballs than Yeosang was. As a result, his aim was imprecise, though when he did land a hit on Seonghwa, his snowballs had a lot of impact.

Maintaining precise aim while simultaneously trying to dodge incoming attacks from two people proved difficult, but surprisingly, Seonghwa enjoyed himself. One benefit of this fight was that Yeosang had no time to cover up his smile. He was enticing. Seonghwa got to see and hear him laugh the whole time, and this time it wasn’t just because of Mingi. The downside was that Seonghwa took a few harsh hits for ineptly staring at him. He decided it was worth it.

Seonghwa had no idea how much time went by while they did this, but the cost of playing one versus two began to lift its ugly head; Seonghwa was losing. Or at least he’d thought so until a snowball hit Yeosang right in the cheek all of a sudden. Stunned, he lost his balance for a moment and stumbled a few steps back.

The weird thing was that it had been a snowball neither Seonghwa nor Mingi had thrown.

Mingi jerked his head in the direction the snowball had come from, just to be hit in the face by a new one. “Hey!” he exclaimed, reasonably disgruntled.

Seonghwa turned towards the castle entrance. Then it clicked.

“Hongjoong?” said Seonghwa, baffled. There he stood, confident and imposing despite his small figure. He wore a yellow scarf with black stripes over his anthracite coat to represent the Hufflepuff House. A couple of snowflakes sat in his cerulean blue locks and his face displayed a complacent, yet charming grin. “What are you doing?”

Hongjoong strode through the snow, past the frozen waterspouts in the middle of the courtyard. “I couldn’t just watch you lose any longer, Hwa.”

“I was doing fine,” Seonghwa replied defensively.

Yeosang and Mingi both eyed Hongjoong with disdain. He simply smirked at them, acting like the tension in the air hadn’t increased by ninety percent upon his arrival.

He came to a halt next to Seonghwa and produced a new snowball. “Are we going to fight or what?”

Yeosang looked up at Mingi and the two exchanged grim glances. They came to an unspoken agreement and nodded to each other. Again, Seonghwa couldn’t help but wonder why the two understood each other so well.

“Bring it,” said Yeosang.

Hongjoong’s grin widened. “As you wish, sugar.”

As expected, Hongjoong was a game changer. Seonghwa had no choice but to admire his efficiency in both speed and precision. He dodged Yeosang and Mingi’s attacks with playful ease and landed almost every hit perfectly. Snowball fighting appeared to be yet another addition to Hongjoong’s endless list of talents. It was fascinating, really.

Seonghwa had always had to work hard for his success. Countless hours of study and practice had gotten him the flawless record his mother liked to praise so much, but Hongjoong had never had to do anything of the sort. Not as far as Seonghwa knew, at least. A part of Seonghwa envied him for how effortlessly he succeeded at everything he laid his hands on. Hongjoong was born talented, and that was the very thing that had earned him scholastic success as well as immense popularity. Well, that and his infallible flirtatiousness and attractiveness.

Yeosang and Mingi visibly grew more resolved to win as the fight went on. What had started out as a spontaneous little game between friends had evolved into an unbridled competition. Though, now that Hongjoong had joined in, the battle had shifted to his and Seonghwa’s team’s favor. Yeosang and Mingi took a lot more hits than they were able to put out, and Hongjoong’s grin only widened at the prospect of victory. Seonghwa honestly didn’t care too much about winning anymore as his arm began to ache from throwing what felt like a hundred snowballs. He had just begun to wonder if this spiel was ever going to end when he heard Hongjoong let out an uncharacteristic yelp.

In an attempt to dodge one of Mingi’s hard-hitting snowballs, Hongjoong slipped on an icy patch beneath the trampled snow bed. Seonghwa instinctively reached out to catch him, but that turned out to be a mistake. Instead of preventing Hongjoong’s fall, Seonghwa only accomplished disrupting his own balance. Hongjoong tried to save himself by gripping onto Seonghwa’s robes, which resulted in tipping both of them over. The two of them met the floor, Seonghwa landing painfully on top of Hongjoong.

“Ow…” groaned Seonghwa as he propped himself up with his elbows. The rough cobble ground was icy enough to sting Seonghwa’s skin. Hongjoong looked as though he’d never seen anything more horrifying than Seonghwa walking this earth. His mouth slightly agape and his eyes wide with terror, he stared up at him, unable to form words. No trace of the cockiness Seonghwa usually experienced from him.

For a moment, the world stopped spinning as they did nothing but stare into each other’s eyes. But Seonghwa felt like Hongjoong wasn’t just looking into his eyes. He looked _beyond_ them, into the very essence of his soul. It was so weird. The expression on his face said a million things, and Seonghwa found himself unable to interpret even a single one of them.

“Get off me.” Hongjoong had finally rediscovered his ability to speak, but Seonghwa hadn’t expected such harshness. He even started pushing at Seonghwa’s chest.

Seonghwa blinked down at him. “What?”

“ _Now._ ” The warning tone in his voice left no room for discussion.

“O-Oh, of course.” Seonghwa scrambled off him and quickly got to his feet. He dusted off his robes before offering Hongjoong a hand to pull him up as well. Hongjoong slapped it away and got up by himself. Seonghwa retracted his hand and awkwardly cleared his throat.

Yeosang and Mingi double high-fived each other, laughing triumphantly. They were oblivious to whatever had just happened between Hongjoong and Seonghwa. All that mattered to them was that they had won the battle.

“How about that?” Mingi asked with an overweening grin.

Hongjoong was quick to put his confident façade back on, though it didn’t slip Seonghwa’s attention that he was avoiding everyone’s eyes. No, scratch that. He was avoiding _Seonghwa_ ’s eyes. “You won a snowball fight. Congratulations. Now what?”

Yeosang tapped his chin in thought. “Hm. I say we demand a reward. What do you think, Mingi?”

Mingi’s grin widened. “I think that’s a great idea.”

Hongjoong sighed and rolled his eyes. “If I’d known you guys were going to be so childish about this, I wouldn’t have joined in.”

“Nobody asked you to, you know,” Mingi retorted.

“Just say what you want so we can get this over with, please,” Seonghwa impatiently threw in. If was completely honest, he couldn’t care less about the punishment. He just wanted to get inside and restore his body temperature at the fireplace in the common room. Preferably with Yeosang.

“Alright, alright,” said Yeosang. “Maybe we should just make them hug and let it slide.”

Hongjoong threw a quick glance in Seonghwa’s direction and crossed his arms. “That’s… a stupid punishment. What would you two even gain from it?”

Seonghwa furrowed his brows. Hongjoong was still avoiding his eyes. Why was he acting so strangely? Was he that mad about losing? Seonghwa hadn’t thought Hongjoong to be the sore loser type of guy. Then again, he also didn’t seem like much of a hugger.

Mingi let out a dramatic gasp. “What is this?” he exclaimed. “Is the great Kim Hongjoong reluctant to throw himself at another man? Never thought I’d see the day. That must be a first.”

Yeosang muffled his laughter. Hongjoong narrowed his eyes at them. “I’m just not sure how my boyfriend would feel about that,” he sneered and threw Mingi a sly grin. “I’m dating Yunho, remember? Not that you’d know anything about what _that’s_ like.”

Mingi’s grin fell and he clenched his jaw. If looks could kill.

Seonghwa watched this exchange like a ping pong match. “Come on, Hongjoong. It’s just a hug, right? I’m sure Yunho wouldn’t – ”

“Don’t act like he’s not just going to drop you as soon as he finds someone better,” Mingi hissed. “You’re not special to him!”

“Shut up!” Hurt flashed in Hongjoong’s eyes. He glared at Mingi so intensely that it caught even Seonghwa off guard. He’d never seen him this angry before. “You don’t know anything! You don’t know how much I mean to him, or how much he means to me! Fuck, you don’t even _understand_ him most of the time!”

“What are you even talking about?”

Hongjoong snorted. “You don’t even know what he really needs. And even if you did, you could never give it to him. Not the way I can.”

A line had been crossed. Mingi reached into his robes and pulled out his wand to point it directly at Hongjoong. His hand was trembling with rage.

Hongjoong did the same. He met Mingi’s eyes with an equal amount of contempt.

Remembering that he was a prefect, Seonghwa stepped between them. Using magic against each other on school grounds was strictly prohibited. “Guys, calm down. According to the school regulations - ”

“You’re an ass, Hongjoong,” Yeosang interrupted, shaking his head. His voice had sounded uncharacteristically firm. His tone softened when he turned to Mingi and tried to push down his wand. “Don’t let him get to you. He’s not worth it.” Mingi hesitated. He didn’t look at Yeosang and instead continued to glare at Hongjoong, his lips pursed with fury. Yeosang tugged at his arm once more. “Come on, let’s just go. Please.”

His resolve seemed to weaken and eventually, he lowered his wand. “You’re right. I shouldn’t waste my energy on someone as pathetic as him.”

With that, Mingi let Yeosang pull him toward the castle. Hongjoong glared after them until they disappeared through the heavy doors.

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa spoke up firmly. “I can’t believe you pointed your wand at him when you know the rules. You’re a prefect! You’re supposed to act as a role model in front of the student body, even if they violate the rules first. Actually, especially then.”

Hongjoong said nothing. He just stood there, not sparing Seonghwa a single glance. His focus was directed inward.

Seonghwa sighed. Now that he looked at Hongjoong’s dejected face, he almost regretted lecturing him. “Are you okay?”

“Of course I’m okay,” he said defensively. “You think I’m gonna let a neanderthal like Mingi throw me off?”

Something that looked like a tiny green leaf poked out of Hongjoong’s chest pocket, but he immediately pushed it back in. Seonghwa decided not to question it. “You’re not fooling anyone. I know you well enough to say that you never get upset like this.”

“I’m not upset!”

Seonghwa watched thoughtfully as Hongjoong began to kick at the snow at his feet. “Is your, um, love for Yunho really that serious?”

Hongjoong finally looked at him, eyeing him cautiously as if to test if he was mocking him. Seonghwa had no idea what went on in his head. His expression was as unreadable as it had been when they were lying in the snow together a few minutes ago. “He’s important to me, alright?”

Seonghwa nodded. He was inclined to believe him, but something told Seonghwa that there was something off about this “passionate” love story between Hongjoong and Yunho. He had a lot of questions, but Hongjoong’s tone had made it clear that the topic was done.

The stinging cold permeating Seonghwa’s face and hands made him want nothing more than to head back inside and pay the prefects’ bathroom a visit in order to warm up in a nice hot bath instead of the fireplace in the common room, but somehow it didn’t feel right to leave Hongjoong alone like this. He may have denied it, but Hongjoong was clearly bothered by what Mingi had said to him.

“Do you wanna build a snowman?” Seonghwa suggested lamely.

Hongjoong let out a hearty laugh. His mood swings were confusing to keep up with to say the least. “You’re so weird.”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“It’s a hell no. I don’t think I can take much more of this frosty weather.”

“Oh.” Seonghwa reconsidered. “Then how about we warm up by the fireplace in the Great Hall over a round of Wizarding Chess?”

“Why are you trying so hard to hang out with me?”

“I don’t know. Because we’re friends, aren’t we?”

“I’m going inside.”

“Wait, one more thing.” Hongjoong turned back around to face Seonghwa. “About earlier…” Seonghwa began. “Was the prospect of hugging me really that awful?”

Hongjoong averted his eyes once more. “Yes.”

“How dare you?” Seonghwa sulked. He didn’t remember having friends to be such a cold experience. “Since when do you dislike me so much?”

Hongjoong shrugged. “It’s not that I dislike you it’s just… complicated. Don’t take it personal.”

Seonghwa nodded. Maybe this was Hongjoong’s way of hiding how much his altercation with Mingi had affected him. Hongjoong had always been the type of guy to hide his emotions in order to appear tougher than he really was. It was his way of protecting himself. His carefree and untouchable attitude was nothing more than a façade to hide the pain and frustration he held inside. Seonghwa had learned that about him years ago.

Seonghwa considered him for a moment. He usually wasn’t the type to hug people. In most cases, it was nothing but an awkward and uncomfortable invasion of personal space. But for some reason, he made a lot of atypically unreasonable choices today. Besides, it just felt like the right thing to do in that moment. Before Hongjoong had time to react, Seonghwa took his hand, pulled him closer, and wrapped his arms around Hongjoong.

“Are you crazy?” Hongjoong mumbled into Seonghwa’s chest. He was so tiny in his arms. He didn’t put up as much of a fight as Seonghwa had expected him to. “Don’t you know that you don’t just hug Kim Hongjoong without consent?”

Seonghwa chuckled. “Don’t you know that when Park Seonghwa offers a hug, you have to accept it?”

“I’ve never heard of that rule.”

“Well, now you have.”

Hongjoong huffed. “Let go of me before I turn into a dragon and eat you.”

“You mean a wyvern?” Seonghwa teased. Hongjoong shot him a glare, causing Seonghwa to back off. “Okay, okay.”

With that, Hongjoong turned on his heel and hurried towards the castle. Seonghwa stared after him. He really didn’t understand Hongjoong sometimes. He mentally added a guidebook on social skills to the list of things he desperately needed to read up on.

**Thursday, January 5th. 05:48PM. Snowshill, Gloucestershire, 24 West End Lane, Backyard. Jung Wooyoung.**

Darkness crept over the horizon like an indigo carpet as the sun hunted for a chance to rest for the night. Early stars dotted the darkening sky, clearly visible in the freezing air twilight brought with it. Only a few feathery snowflakes fell noiselessly around Wooyoung. He wasn’t sure how much time he and San had spent picking gnomes out of his mother’s hedge. It felt like the cold had turned their fingers red and sensitive ages ago.

“Was that the last one?” Wooyoung asked, surprised by the exhaustion in his own voice.

San had just flung another gnome into the fields. He examined the hedge once more, rustling up the branches. The movement caused more snow to fall from them, though there were no more gnomes to be seen. “I think so, yeah.”

Wooyoung let out a sigh of relief. “Finally.”

“Let’s sit down for a moment, shall we?”

The two of them returned to the back pouch of the house and settled down at the snow-covered garden table. Despite the cold, it was beautiful out here. Wooyoung had always loved winter and the beauty it offered. The stillness of the frozen air heightening each of his senses, the glittering blankets of snow making the world look like it’d been coated in sugar, and – though Wooyoung had never seen them personally – the colorful Northern Lights dancing across an inky black sky. Well that, and of course all the fun activities one couldn’t really do at any other time of the year, like any type of winter sport, building snowmen, making snow angels, and – Wooyoung’s personal favorite - snowball fights. He connected countless childhood memories with this backyard. He tried to block out the ones that included Stephan.

Wooyoung rubbed his hands together in an attempt to get rid of the numbness in them. Then he shifted his attention to San, who sat on the opposite side of the table. His eyes were glued to the night sky. Typical. “I found yet another thing you’re good at.”

San looked at him and laughed. “Come on, you have to cut me some slack. It’s not like de-gnoming a garden is a complicated craft.” His breath formed little white clouds as he spoke. “Besides, I swear you threw them way harder than I did.”

Maybe there was some truth to that. Wooyoung had gotten a lot of practice in the seventeen years he’d lived here. Plus, as one of the Chasers on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team it was a given that he’d have some solid throws. “You’re right. I absolutely outdid you.”

“You don’t have to put it like _that_. I did some damage,” San protested. Then he shimmied out of his coat, rolled up the sleeve of his hoodie, and flexed his arm muscles. “Just look at these guns.”

Wooyoung laughed. “Alright, alright, big boy. Put your jacket back on, it’s cold.”

San obliged. “That sarcastic tone of yours is gonna get you in trouble someday.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Both.”

They chuckled. Whenever San laughed, it was like his already beautiful features were set alight. His smile turned his foxlike eyes into small crescents and even summoned dimples on his cheeks. It was sweet, joyous, and pretty. No phenomenon of beauty in the world could even remotely compare. Wooyoung couldn’t imagine himself ever growing tired of it.

San rubbed his arms against the cold. “It really is freezing.”

“Yeah, I can’t wait to get back into bed.” Wooyoung grinned. “With you.”

San grinned back. He opened his mouth to retort something when a rustling noise caught his attention. It had come from the direction of the hedge. “What was that?”

Seemingly out of nowhere, the streetlamp outside the backyard began to flicker, three, four times until it died out completely. A sudden yet frosty gust of wind whipped through the backyard. It ruffled up Wooyoung’s hair and sent a chill down his spine. Even the trees guarding the backyard swayed creepily, rustling in the wind as they casted eerie shadows on the ground. Wooyoung uneasily pulled his cardigan tighter around his body. He didn’t like how dark it had become. It hindered his senses.

San’s face hardened as his eyes scanned the narrow backyard. In the twilight they had a dangerous glint in them, holding out for any lurking threat. One look into his mind disclosed that he thought they weren’t alone.

Once the blast had passed, the night fell dead silent again. Wooyoung’s heart pounded loudly in his chest.

San rose to his feet and took Wooyoung’s hand. “Let’s go back inside.”

Wooyoung nodded wordlessly. He let San lead him back to the slide door that would take them to the living room. He threw one last wary look over his shoulder before San opened the door to let Wooyoung enter first. What had just happened? What was this uncomfortable feeling? He couldn’t explain the goosebumps all over his skin.

As soon as they’d stepped inside, the weird feeling was chased away by the welcoming warmth of the living room.

Wooyoung’s mother sat on the couch, watching an old sitcom. “Oh, are you done?” She checked her digital wristwatch.

They took off their coats tried not to show any concern. San put on a smile. “Yeah, Mrs. Jung. The gnomes should be gone now.”

“Thank you again for the help, boys. I couldn’t have gotten rid of them by myself,” she told them, an apologetic look on her face when she spotted the gnome bites on their arms. She held up a small jar. “Here, have some cookies.”

“Thanks, mom,” said Wooyoung as he took the cookie jar from her, “We’ll have them in the kitchen.”

She waved them off with a smile and refocused on her sitcom. Once in the kitchen, Wooyoung pushed himself up to sit on the kitchen isle with the cookie jar in his lap while San stood leaning against the counter opposite him. The cookies were as soft and delicious as they had been on Christmas Eve. They ate them in silence. It was like they’d unanimously decided not to mention whatever had happened in the backyard.

San spoke up first. “I’ve been thinking about something.”

“What is it?”

“Remember what your father said at breakfast yesterday? About ministry officials going missing lately?”

“Yeah…”

“What if the Cleanse people are somehow related to that? Do you think they might still down there somewhere?”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened. “What, in the Department of Mysteries?!”

San threw a look in the direction of the living room to make sure Wooyoung’s mother wasn’t listening. He shrugged. “I don’t know. I heard that regular workers aren’t allowed to go down there. Ever. It’d be a perfect hiding spot for a questionable cult.”

Wooyoung tried to keep his voice down. “But that would be crazy risky! It’d only take one of the authorized workers to spot one of them walking in and out of there and their cover would be blown!”

“If they managed to convert your uncle, who’s to say they didn’t do the same to other Unspeakables?” Unspeakables were ministry employees who worked in the Department of Mysteries. They were forbidden from discussing their jobs or disclosing any information about their department, hence the name “Unspeakable.” Stephan had been one of them, and he’d abused his position to help the New Lord. “They’d completely fall under the ministry’s radar. Hiding in plain sight,” San explained. “What if you’re not the only victim they held hostage down there to take advantage of them in some way.”

Wooyoung considered his words. “So you’re saying they kidnap ministry workers and then hold them hostage in the Department of Mysteries? Right under the ministry’s nose?”

San nodded and took another cookie. “That’s my theory. The big question is why.”

A moment of silence settled between them as they racked their brains. “Maybe they’re doing it to convert them or something,” Wooyoung suggested after a while.

“You mean like a brainwashing lab?”

“I don’t know, maybe. I wouldn’t put it past those freaks.”

“Why ministry workers, though? Wouldn’t it be much easier to pick random people? They’re being way too careless.”

“Good point…” And even so, wouldn’t it be a lot more subtle to just use the Imperius Curse on their victims instead of kidnapping them? “Making this many people disappear in such a short amount of time attracts attention. Why would they risk being found out by the ministry?”

“There must be a reason why they choose those people specifically. Maybe they need the victims to do a certain task for them. Something a regular person couldn’t do.”

If that was true, then the situation wasn’t so different from the one Wooyoung had been in a month ago. They’d only needed him to read the prophecy for them. However last time, they’d been a lot sneakier about it. Were they getting desperate? Was this a hasty measure to ensure future success? It didn’t seem like their style. “Dad said they were all from different departments, though. I don’t know that they have any preference for their victims’ job specialization.”

“Right…” San raked a hand through his hair. “Then why pick ministry workers?” he repeated. He’d said it more to himself than to Wooyoung. His focus had shifted inward. Wooyoung felt the frustration grow in San’s mind. Those dark feelings that group always caused in him threatened to lift their ugly heads again, and Wooyoung didn’t like it at all. He hopped off the kitchen isle to cup San’s face in his hands.

“Maybe it’s completely unrelated after all. We don’t have a whole lot of clues to go by. Let’s not get lost in speculation.” San regarded him for a few seconds. The darkness in his mind seemed to melt away a little as he did. He gave a small smile.

“You might be right,” he said finally. Wooyoung planted a brief kiss on his lips. “If we used the time turner to gather some information like we did last time…” He faltered at the warning look Wooyoung gave him. “Not right this instant, of course. But later. It could be a good place to start, at least.”

“I suppose it is, yes. We could try to do that once we’re back in Hogwarts.”

San grinned. “Alright.”

Wooyoung’s phone buzzed in his pocket. San startled at the noise and looked around the kitchen, alarmed. He looked just about ready to pull out his wand and fight.

“Don’t worry, it’s just my phone,” Wooyoung said with a chuckle.

San visibly relaxed as Wooyoung checked the caller ID. “I thought it was a nest of Vampyr Mosps or something.”

“It’s Jongho.” Usually Jongho texted, so the sound of a buzzing phone was a new experience for San. Adorable. Wooyoung told San to hold on and accepted the call. “What’s up?”

“Are you safe? Is someone with you? Is everything okay?”

Wooyoung sighed. The response came out almost automatically. “San is with me and I’m perfectly fine. Just like yesterday. And the day before.”

“Good,” said Jongho, ignoring his sarcasm.

Out of all his friends, Jongho had taken Wooyoung’s incident most seriously. He’d gotten severely injured on their way to escape the Department of Mysteries after everyone had unintentionally split up. Luckily, Yeosang had been with him at the time. Jongho wouldn’t have gotten away with just a scar on his shoulder if it hadn’t been for Yeosang’s immediate help. From what Yeosang had told Wooyoung, he probably wouldn’t have made it at all. Jongho never spoke of the incident, or at least not about the part where he’d gotten hurt. It had cost him a great chunk of his former carefree and easy spirit. Wooyoung could only imagine how heavily it weighed on his mind.

As soon as Jongho had been released from the Hospital Wing, he’d begun to put most of his energy into protecting Wooyoung. Just like San, he’d become adamant about taking the blame for what had happened. He’d come up with a detailed schedule that made sure either San, Yeosang, or himself were available to escort Wooyoung to his meals, classes, and extracurriculars. Of course, San and Yeosang had agreed to help, but Jongho was by far the most meticulous about sticking to that schedule even weeks after the incident. In Hogwarts, Wooyoung rarely spent even a minute by himself anymore. It was like he’d gotten himself a personal bodyguard. Wooyoung did appreciate it in a way. He did feel a lot safer with his roommate around at all times, especially because he was terrified by the idea of being alone in the dorm room. The downside was just that it had gotten to a point where Jongho had begun to neglect his blooming relationship with Yeosang just to ensure Wooyoung’s safety. Wooyoung couldn’t help but feel guilty about that consequence.

“Nothing strange or unusual happened?” Jongho questioned when Wooyoung didn’t answer right away.

For a moment, Wooyoung remembered the backyard, then he immediately shook the thought out of his head. It had just been a flickering streetlamp and a gust of wind. He was being paranoid for no reason. He and San had worked outside in the cold for a long time, and their exhaustion had played tricks on their brains. That was it. “Nope, everything’s normal.”

“Good,” Jongho repeated.

“You don’t need to worry so much.”

“Yes, I do. I want to.”

Wooyoung sighed. “I wish you’d put this much effort into your relationship with Yeosang.”

“Hey.”

“I’m just saying. He likes you; you like him. I don’t understand why you two are still dancing around each other.

“I have to go.”

“No, you don’t.”

Static noises sounded through the line, clearly fabricated by a plastic bag. Wooyoung suspected it was one of Jongho’s beloved bags of nuts. “The connection is extremely unstable right now. I can’t hear you at all.”

“Jongho.”

More ‘ _static_.’ “Gee, I better hang up. Bye.”

They disconnected. Wooyoung shook his head and stared at the screen in disbelief. That must’ve been Jongho’s lamest excuse yet. When Wooyoung let his phone glide back into his pocket, he found San was occupied curiously examining the mixer. Again, it was an adorable sight.

“Wanna head upstairs now? I’d love a cozy cuddle session and a movie,” Wooyoung suggested after explaining the device to him.

San put down the mixer. “I thought you’d never ask.”

He once again took Wooyoung’s hand and the two of them left the kitchen. Wooyoung had been craving his blanket ever since they’d come back inside the house. He didn’t want to think about the Cleanse people and whatever they may or may not be scheming. Even if it was only for a few more days, he wanted to pretend everything was fine. No nightmares, no creepy shadows, no twisted kidnapping schemes. Only San and the warmth and safety his arms promised.

*


	3. Friday, January 6th

**Friday, January 6th. 05:24AM. London, Charterhouse Square. Choi Jongho.**

Much like sprinkled sugar over cake, the grass was covered in a thin layer of icy snow. Jongho had to be careful not to slip as he jogged through the park. His feet battered against the frosty ground in a steady rhythm. The pure fresh air felt sharp in his lungs, and his exhales created white puffs in it. He was on the last lap of his early morning run with only ten minutes left.

He hadn’t encountered a single soul ever since he’d left his house at around five in the morning. It was the only time of day the streets weren’t crowded. In fact, Jongho’s neighborhood resembled a ghost town rather than a city of millions. His only companions were the birds flying from one branch to another as if to follow him. Had they already memorized the path he’d taken every morning for the past two weeks? Jongho had no idea if birds had the mental capacity to do that. They were probably chirping their little melodies to him, parrots and pigeons. Jongho wasn’t sure, he couldn’t hear them. His earphones played some mainstream radio channel that switched back and forth between overplayed pop songs, news broadcasts, and commercials. Not that Jongho was actually listening. His mind was somewhere completely different.

It was almost ridiculous how often he thought about Yeosang lately. What was he doing right now? Was he still asleep? Most likely. Was he dreaming about eating a huge pile of fried chicken, being the prince of a beautiful kingdom, or having all the money in the world? Was Jongho perhaps starring in his dreams? Jongho would have loved to know.

He also couldn’t help but wonder if anything had changed about the way Yeosang felt about their relationship - if one could even call it that. After Yeosang had drunkenly kissed Jongho the night Wooyoung had disappeared one month ago, their used-to-be platonic relationship had gone from zero to one hundred. No kidding, Jongho had fallen head over heels for the funny, popular, and pretty as a picture Kang Yeosang after just a couple of impulsive kisses. However, Yeosang had pulled the brakes on their rapidly blooming romance when things had gotten too spicy, saying that he had some past relationship issues to deal with before he could commit to anything serious. They had agreed to “take it slow,” but cards on the table, Jongho had no idea what exactly that meant. He was willing to give Yeosang all the time he needed, but at the same time, he couldn’t keep away from him. He didn’t want to risk letting their flame die out. The thought of losing what he and Yeosang had drove him insane.

Should Jongho just take him on a date as soon as he got back to Hogwarts? Their options were very limited in winter. They couldn’t do much besides hang out inside and cuddle up by the fireplace. But what if Yeosang found that too boring? Or what if he felt pressured by the idea of a date? Did a date already push the boundaries of “taking it slow”?

Jongho had left the park and now turned the corner into Aldersgate Street. The road was devoid of cars, completely deserted. A dense fog hung only a few feet above the concrete and swallowed the artificial light the streetlamps casted. The sun wasn’t going to rise for a few more hours. Seeing the empty main street in the dark always gave him the creeps for some reason. Luckily, Jongho’s house was no more than one block away.

 _I wish you_ _’d put this much effort into your relationship with Yeosang._ Wooyoung’s voice rang in Jongho’s head. The statement had popped up in his head multiple times since their phone call yesterday. What had Wooyoung meant by that? Jongho had been under the impression that he was putting an appropriate amount of effort into his relationship with Yeosang by giving him the space he’d asked for. And Wooyoung’s safety simply had to remain the top priority. Jongho couldn’t risk Wooyoung’s life for the sake of his own private life, right?

Was Wooyoung perhaps trying to say that Jongho was…neglecting Yeosang? And most importantly, had that just been Wooyoung’s take on the matter or had Yeosang told him that they may have agreed to take things slow but now they were taking it _too_ slow? Maybe it really was time to take Yeosang on some kind of date. At least Jongho was going back to Hogwarts soon. He could ask him about it then. Two more days.

Jongho jogged up to the small apartment building he called his home and took out his headphones. He was a little out of breath from the run, but he felt good. He reached into the pockets of his sweats, producing his keys as he climbed the stairs to the third floor. Careful not to wake his family, Jongho unlocked the door as quietly as possible, left his shoes at the entrance, and snuck into his room.

His bedroom was nothing special. Fairly small, the majority of it was occupied by his bed with worn-out black sheets, the cluttered desk underneath the window, an overflowing laundry basket, and an old soccer ball. The anthracite walls held a small bookshelf and a few pictures of family and friends, some of them unmoving, others enthusiastically waving at him.

Jongho threw his bomber jacket onto the bed and headed straight for the - uncomfortably cold - bathroom. He stripped out of his sweats, socks, and underwear, until he had only his loose black shirt left. Then he paused and stared at his reflection in the mirror above the sink. His eyes lingered on his clothed right shoulder for a moment. He gritted his teeth and tore his gaze from the mirror before he stepped into the shower.

His muscles relaxed as soon as the pleasantly warm water filtered through his black hair and ran down his body. The soaked fabric of his shirt stuck to his skin uncomfortably, but he ignored it. Like he always did.

 _It_ _’s your fault that you’re like this,_ a self-loathing part of himself said. _You could_ _’ve prevented all of this if you hadn’t gotten back from the party so late._ Jongho took a deep breath and raked a hand through his wet hair. _This mark of disappointment and shame is forever ingrained in your skin and it_ _’s your own damn fault._ He gnawed on his fingernail. The heavy, suffocating feeling in his chest just didn’t want to go away today. ‘ _Sectumsempra!_ ’ Jongho flinched at the intrusive thought and itched his shoulder through the shirt.

Five long minutes later, he stepped back out of the shower. The steamy air inside the bathroom had fogged up the mirror enough to spare him the sight, yet he still turned away before he dared to pull the drenched shirt over his head and threw it into the washing machine. Eyes closed, Jongho dried off his body and hair. He pulled on a new shirt, a pair of jeans and a sweatjacket. When he returned to his room with a towel resting loosely on his head, Mr. Chestnut flew in through the window Jongho had left open for him.

Jongho smiled proudly. “Hey, you made it!”

Mr. Chestnut landed on his arm and softly nibbled on his finger. Jongho pet his little owl friend’s soft brown feathers and gave him a treat before he relieved him of his baggage. It was a small roll of parchment. He let Mr. Chestnut flutter around the room excitedly as he examined it. The smile on his face broadened when he found that it was Yeosang’s reply.

**Friday, January 6th. 11:30AM. Snowshill, Gloucestershire, 24 West End Lane, Living Room. Jung Wooyoung.**

“Don’t forget your coats!” Wooyoung’s mother said as he and San were about to set out. “It may be a little warmer than yesterday, but I can’t have you catch a cold.”

Wooyoung shouldered the little bear-shaped fluffy bag he’d filled with sandwiches and water bottles. “Will do, mom.”

She handed San his navy-blue coat and a thermos flask with hibiscus tea. He thanked her and pulled the coat over his gray hoodie and pale blue jeans. Wooyoung put on his white fur bomber jacket. Their plan was to take the bus to an outlying soccer field where Wooyoung and his father had often played Quidditch together back when he was a kid. It was a good excuse for them to get out of the house for a while. That, and Wooyoung needed to practice for the upcoming game against Slytherin.

He and San had concealed their brooms in his mother’s old sword cases they had found in the garage. Though a little unwieldy, the cases were a better alternative than trying to explain to the muggle bus driver why they brought two fancy looking brooms to a soccer field.

“And try to be back before it gets dark,” she added as they slipped into their sneakers. “The broadcast said the temperatures are going to drop far below zero again tonight.”

“Don’t worry, Mrs. J.” San flashed his charming grin. “I’ll bring him back by five.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes and urged him out the door. “Later, mom!”

“Have fun, boys!”

San chuckled as he pulled the door closed behind Wooyoung. Once outside, Wooyoung took a moment to appreciate the fresh clean air that enveloped them. The cold felt refreshing in his lungs after breathing in the dry heated air of his room all morning. The sky was clear. It had stopped snowing sometime last night, and the winter sun had already melted a lot of yesterday’s snow.

They made their way down the driveway, passed the fence gate and turned left down West End Lane. After they’d passed the graveyard, they only had to follow the road straight ahead. Wooyoung enthused about Quidditch techniques and strategies on the way there. San wore a smile as he listened. It took them less than ten minutes to reach the bus stop, which was devoid of people when they arrived.

Wooyoung checked his wristwatch. “The next bus should be here in five minutes.”

“Okay.” San examined the ticket Wooyoung had given him earlier this morning. “I’m so excited.”

“About the bus?”

“Yeah. It’s my first time taking one.”

“Right.” Wooyoung smiled. “You can sit by the window if you want.”

San’s face lit up with excitement.

Not long after, the bus pulled over and they showed the driver their tickets. He didn’t ask about the sword cases and simply waved them through with an indifferent expression on his face. The bus was almost empty. Only a few old people, a teenage girl with headphones in, and a sleeping guy in a long black coat occupied the abundance of seats. As promised, Wooyoung let San take the window seat. San immediately leaned closer to the glass, smiling at the view of the beautiful little town. One picturesque brick house after another rushed past the window as the bus left Wooyoung’s neighborhood behind. He silently observed San for several minutes.

The sunlight painted his honey glow skin in beautiful shades of peach and marigold. It set his dark eyes alight with tones of golden caramel and filtered through his black hair, bringing out the brown hints that were usually too dark to spot. Wooyoung smiled and ran a hand through his boyfriend’s hair. San tore his eyes away from the view and turned to look at him.

“Your father wasn’t lying. Snowshill is beautiful,” he said. The smile still lingered on his pretty lips.

 _Not as beautiful as you,_ Wooyoung thought, but refused to say something so cheesy. That was San’s job. “I know, right?” he replied instead. “Tomorrow is our last day here. We could go downtown and check out the ice rink or something.”

“Sounds like a date.”

“Do you know how to ice skate?”

San put a hand on his chest, mock offended. “Who do you take me for? Of course I do. Do _you_?”

Wooyoung had to scoff. “Me? They used to call me _King of the Ice._ ”

“I highly doubt that, your highness.”

Wooyoung shrugged. “Just don’t be too upset if you can’t keep up with me.”

A grin spread across San’s face. “Challenge accepted.”

They got off the bus at the second to last stop that still belonged to Snowshill. The town was still visible in the distance, but other than that there was not much to see out here. By the road stood a short row of small family homes for sale on one side, and a broad but shabby barn on the other. Old and not appealingly so, the barn was tall enough to hide the old soccer field that lay behind it, making it the perfect spot to practice Quidditch while staying out of most muggles’ view. Convenient.

San and Wooyoung made their way around the shabby building and settled down their bags and sword cases on the slightly overgrown lawn. The grass was covered in a thin glittery layer of icy snow that the sun had not yet managed to work its way through. They unpacked their brooms and put on their house scarves and some gloves that would help them fight off the cold once they were soaring through the air. With Wooyoung’s Firebolt Supreme safely stored away in the Quidditch pitch locker rooms on Hogwarts grounds, he had to settle for the regular Firebolt he kept at home, while San used the Nimbus 2002 his father used to fly. By far not the fanciest models of course, but they were enough for a casual practice session like this. After mounting their brooms, they decided to warm up by flying freely around the field.

To Wooyoung, few things felt more freeing than flying. Euphoria pulsed through his veins as he tore through the sky. The wind ruffled up his hair and made his clothes waft wildly around him. Despite the biting cold that numbed his face, he couldn’t contain his smile. He risked a couple of loops beyond the barn, momentarily allowing himself not to care whether any muggles saw him or not. If they did, they’d probably convince themselves that they’d seen something perfectly normal anyway. San grinned at him when they met again mid-air, several feet above the ground. They circled around each other playfully.

“So, shall we start practicing?” San asked. “What do you need me to do?”

Wooyoung was one of the Chasers of the Gryffindor team, meaning that it was his job to score goals for his team by throwing the Quaffle through one of three goal posts on the field. Since he and San had neither a Quaffle nor any goal posts, Wooyoung had brought an old soccer ball to use as substitute for the Quaffle. He threw it far across the field, where San ineptly waited to catch it, taking on the role of the goal post. The soccer ball felt a little lighter and harder to grab than a Quaffle, but after a couple of throws, Wooyoung had adjusted to the difference. He sent San further and further away as he worked on his precision. Once that became too boring, he gave San the ball and practiced various maneuvers to steal it from him, as if San were a Chaser of the opposing team. San wasn’t much of a Quidditch player himself, but he did a solid job dodging Wooyoung’s offenses and keeping the ball from him. Above all, it was incredibly fun, especially when Wooyoung emerged victorious and got to watch his boyfriend sulk and practically beg for a rematch. His competitiveness rivaled no other’s.

After two hours, they took a break. The sun was still quite high in the sky though it had moved closer toward the horizon than when they’d first arrived at the soccer field. Despite the warm glow it dowsed their surroundings in, it only offered a fraction of its warmth. Wooyoung spread out the thick woolen blanket for them to settle down on, pulled off his gloves, and produced the box of sandwiches from his bag. He’d prepared ham, grilled cheese, egg salad, plus two water bottles and some juice. San poured the hibiscus tea Wooyoung’s mother had given them. To keep them warm, San had also brought a jar filled with Bluebell flames - bright blue magical flames that could be touched and held without it burning the holder. Wooyoung was quick to press it against his numb cheeks.

He took a deep breath of fresh air and sighed. Quidditch always managed to put him in high spirits. “This is nice.”

“It is. And you did a great job practicing.” San smiled and took a sip of his tea. He sat opposite Wooyoung, cross-legged. “Sometimes I forget how good you are. I can tell how fired up you feel for the upcoming game.”

“Thanks.” Wooyoung returned his smile, his competitive nature boiling within him. “I really want us to win the House Cup this year. And also crush the Slytherins’ winning streak.” The Slytherin team had won the House Cup three years in a row. Wooyoung’s final game last school year had been one of the tightest matches of his career as a Chaser, and he simply couldn’t let them win this time. “No offense.”

San laughed his sweet laugh. “None taken. You deserve it.”

“Wait. Shouldn’t you be rooting for your own house anyway?”

“Officially I am. Mingi would kill me if he knew I was helping “the enemy” train. But my true allegiance lies with you, darling.”

Wooyoung grinned. “How very sweet of you.” It was impressive how often San proved his loyalty to Wooyoung even if it was laced into small remarks like that. Not that he had anything left to prove anymore. He’d gone above and beyond to save Wooyoung’s life. There was nothing Wooyoung wouldn’t trust him with after that. San would do anything for him, and he would do anything for San.

 _But you_ _’ve been lying to him about your dreams. If he ends up dead, it’ll be your fault,_ a malicious part of Wooyoung’s brain reminded him. He brushed it aside. That was different. He couldn’t tell San about that yet. Those were only nightmares. They had to be. Wooyoung shook the thought out of his head and finished the last ham sandwich. He didn’t want to think about that right now. He was having fun.

When he glanced up at San, he found him already looking at him. Their gazes locked. He was doing it again. He studied Wooyoung with such overwhelming devotion that it took Wooyoung’s breath away. Wooyoung chuckled. “What’s with that stare?”

“I’m trying to read your mind.”

“Well, is it working?”

“No. I have no idea how you can just do that.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t have gotten kidnapped for that ability if it wasn’t special.”

San’s expression turned serious. “Don’t joke about that…”

“Sorry.” He pressed a brief kiss to San’s forehead to ease the line that had formed between his eyebrows. It worked.

“You’re lucky that you’re adorable.”

Wooyoung smiled in response. Then he had an idea. He drew his wand and muttered, “ _Incendio_.” The tip of his wand produced a tiny orange ball of warm light. Wooyoung pointed at the thin layer of ice covering the ground beside him and burned words into it, letter by letter, until it spelled out “ _Choi San._ ” San grinned, drew his own wand and muttered the same incantation. The ice now also said “ _Jung Wooyoung_ ” right next to it. He drew a heart around it and added the phrase “ _amicus ad aras._ ”

Wooyoung cocked his head to the side. “What does it mean?”

“It’s a term for friends whose only higher allegiance is religion. Or friends until the very end, to put it simply.”

He chuckled. “Friends?”

“Of course.” San shrugged. “You are just as much my friend as you are my lover.”

Wooyoung’s face heated up at the word “lover.” Of course it made sense for San to say that. What else were they if not lovers. But hearing him say it so naturally made his heart race. “Again with the cheesiness.”

“Stop complaining. I know you like it.”

“I love it.” With that, Wooyoung scooted over to where San sat and kissed him. San’s lips felt warm and soft against his, a beautiful contrast to the chilly air around them. San pulled him closer by the waist, inviting him to climb into his lap, and who was Wooyoung to refuse such an offer? He did as he was told and wrapped his arms around San’s neck as they melted against each other. The cold had no chance against them. San let his hands roam over Wooyoung’s thighs, squeezing them through his jeans.

“Your thighs are really warm,” he pointed out, grinning against Wooyoung’s lips. “I like it.”

“They’re all yours if you want them.”

San hummed and shook his head. “Don’t say that to me right now. It’s too cold to get naked.” Then he connected their lips one more time.

Unfortunately, their moment didn’t last much longer. The cold may not have a chance against them, but San was right; it was too cold to do anything sexy. Besides, a soccer field behind an abandoned barn was hardly the right place to, either.

San pulled away. “Let’s practice some more, shall we?”

“Alright.”

The two practiced for two more hours until they grew tired and the sun began to set. Wooyoung longed for the heating system of his house. They packed their things, hid the brooms in the sword cases, and took the bus back. It had already gotten dark when they got off. Wooyoung’s mother had been right about the temperatures. The bitter cold had gotten noticeably more intense now that it was dark. It crept underneath their coats and licked uncomfortably over their skin. Wooyoung buried his hands deep in pockets. He should’ve brought hand warmers.

For some reason, the ten-minute walk from the bus stop to Wooyoung’s house felt like an eternity. They didn’t see anyone on the way, and the streets were dead silent. That is, until Wooyoung heard a noise behind them.

San whipped around at the same time Wooyoung did. They lingered and stared at the empty street behind them for a minute but were met with nothing but eerie silence. “You heard that too, right?” San whispered.

Wooyoung nodded. He called out into the dark. “Who’s there?”

No response. They exchanged glances and continued to walk. He instinctively stayed close to San and kept throwing looks over his shoulder every few seconds. Why did he suddenly feel as though someone was watching their every move? _Calm down, Wooyoung,_ he thought. _There_ _’s nothing there. Probably just some stray cat._

They were halfway there when the streetlamp right next to them began to flicker. San stopped in his tracks and looked around. Even the cloud that his breath formed in the air flickered under the defective light. What had been a light breeze before turned into a freezing wind that intensified by the second. It tugged harshly at their clothes and whipped their hair around their heads. The trees around them rustled threateningly. All streetlamps on West End Lane had begun to flicker.

San drew his wand and grabbed Wooyoung’s hand. “Let’s hurry.”

They picked up the pace, their shoes pounding against the wet pavement. His grip on San’s hand tightened. Every shadow seemed like a possible source of danger. He had no clue what they were running from, but his legs carried him almost automatically. They reached West End Lane and Wooyoung could see his house. A moment later his fingers trembled with urgency as he opened the fence gate to his driveway. San never stopped scanning their surroundings until they finally made it to the front door. Wooyoung fell into San’s arms as soon as it locked behind them.

He had trouble catching his breath and his heart raced, but not from running. Was there someone after him again? There was no way every single streetlamp in West End Lane had randomly decided to flicker at the same time…right? Something strange was going on, and Wooyoung had no idea what it was or what to think of it.

“Wooyoung.” He looked up at San, who gently ran a hand through his hair. His expression had remained serious. “It’s okay. You’re safe. As long as I’m here, nothing’s going to happen to you.”

Wooyoung managed a weak smile. “I thought you said you couldn’t read minds.”

“I don’t have to.” San pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

“Hey, you’re back.” Wooyoung’s mother peeked out of the kitchen. She rushed to take off their coats, oblivious to the anxiety pumping through Wooyoung’s veins. “Perfect timing, I’m making hot chocolate. Did you have fun?”

Wooyoung tried to act like he hadn’t had his life scared out of him just a moment ago. “Oh, yeah, we practiced a lot.”

“Great.” She smiled. “Could you take the cases back to the garage?”

“I’ll do it, Mrs. J,” San said promptly.

“Thank you, San. Wooyoung, you can wait in the kitchen and take the hot chocolate to your room when it’s done.”

“Sure, mom.” Wooyoung handed San his sword case and exchanged it for the bag he had carried. He gave him a grateful look. Wooyoung really didn’t want to leave the house again. At least not for the rest of the evening.

**Friday, January 6th. 05:46PM. Hogwarts, Transfiguration Courtyard. Song Mingi.**

Mingi slapped the piece of parchment in his lap with his writing feather - and instantly regretted it. It was the one Yeosang had bought him the day before yesterday. After mumbling an apology to the inanimate object, he went back to staring at the blank page. Well, almost blank. What was supposed to be a late reply to a letter he’d received nearly a week ago only read “Happy New Year, Yunho” so far. And it wasn’t even written prettily.

He groaned in frustration and kicked a rock into the grass. Silas, the pet toad Mingi had adopted in his second year, sat next to him on the bench. She stared at him blankly and gave quiet croaking noises. How could she be so calm about this?

“Why is this so difficult?” he asked her. “It never takes me this long to come up with the right words for San or Yeonjun.”

She responded with a loud croak. Apparently she didn’t know either. Or she tried to remind him that Yunho was…well, _Yunho_. It used to be so easy to talk to him. Mingi used to never have to think twice about what he said and how he acted around him. He used to think he knew Yunho better than anyone. At least until Yunho confessed his romantic feelings to him one day. Back then, Mingi had been so overwhelmed that he’d ended up rejecting him, just to regret it the next day. He wanted to set things straight with Yunho right away, but he’d already thrown himself at somebody else. And now he felt like he didn’t know Yunho at all anymore.

Mingi sighed. He absent-mindedly watched his own fingers play with the writing feather. The ghost of a smile crossed his lips. He was glad that he and Yeosang had become closer friends over the span of just two days. He felt like Yeosang truly understood the struggles he had with Yunho. Sure, San was Mingi’s best friend, but his relationship with Wooyoung had gone smoothly since the very beginning. They were practically made for each other and had barely had any trouble getting together - aside from the kidnapping incident, of course. Mingi often got the feeling that San could only relate to his problems with Yunho so much. So he was grateful to Yeosang for hearing him out and understanding how complicated relationships could be when the universe didn’t just randomly decide to throw your match made in heaven at you.

Speaking of Yeosang, Mingi was supposed to meet him by the door to the Great Hall in less than ten minutes. Maybe he’d be able to help him come up with the right words. He rolled up his abomination of a letter and stuffed it into his chest pocket. Then he shouldered his bag and held open his hands for Silas to hop into. Yeosang was already there when Mingi arrived at their meeting spot. They hadn’t yet discussed what they were going to do. Not wanting to go to Hogsmeade for the third time in a row, Mingi suggested they hang out in the Slytherin Common Room. As a Ravenclaw, Yeosang technically wasn’t allowed to enter another house’s common room. But because it was Christmas break and almost nobody was there anyway, the two of them decided to ignore that rule.

“It’s very gloomy,” Yeosang said as he looked around the dim room. Located deep in the dungeons, the Slytherin Common Room was a long, low underground room with rough stone walls, from which round, greenish lamps hung on chains. A fire crackled under an elaborately carved mantelpiece and several chairs as well as two couches were silhouetted around it. “But overall I’d say it’s pretty cool.”

Mingi nodded. When he’d first come here in his very first year, he’d found the room scary. The lack of daylight falling through the windows and shadows looming in every corner, it had felt like some dingy bunker. But by now he’d grown to love it. It was his home. Mingi smiled. “It’s amazing.”

Once Yeosang had inspected the room to his heart’s content, the two of them ended up lazing on the couches by the fire. Yeosang lay spread out on his back on the smaller couch next to the fireplace, an astronomy-related magazine with the headline “ _Non-Relativistic Gyro-radiation and Cyclotron Radiation_ ” in one hand (Mingi had no idea what any of that meant either), and his wand in another. He used it to let a pillow float around above him as he read. Mingi and Silas occupied the big couch. Lying on his stomach and resting his feet on the armrest, he brooded once again over his letter to Yunho.

Why was this so hard? It was just a stupid response letter, but his mind was completely blank. All he could think about when he thought of Yunho were the things Hongjoong had said yesterday. _You don_ _’t even understand him most of the time. You don’t know what he really needs, and even if you did, you could never give it to him. Not the way I can._

Mingi clenched his fists. As much as he hated to admit it, a part of him believed what Hongjoong had said wasn’t complete garbage. If he understood Yunho, he wouldn’t have gotten them into this mess. He would’ve realized sooner that behind the ‘best friends’ facade, they’d been developing feelings for each other, and in turn, he wouldn’t have rejected Yunho out of panicked surprise back then. At the end of the day, it had been Mingi who’d ruined everything. And now all he could do was pretend to be friends with Yunho just so they wouldn’t fight each other every chance they got. When in reality, Mingi couldn’t see Yunho as a friend anymore. He’d always be something more.

“Judging by the endless sighs you’re letting out I’m assuming that you still haven’t made any progress with that letter.” Yeosang glanced at Mingi from behind his magazine. “Do you need help?”

Mingi put down his writing feather and ruffled through his hair in frustration. Silas croaked sympathetically. “I just don’t know what to write…”

“How about…” Yeosang sat up on his couch. ““ _Happy new year, Yunho. Hope you_ _’re doing well. See you in a few days._ ””

“Is that supposed to be it? That’s way too plain even for a letter between friends.”

Yeosang thought for a moment, then he shrugged. “Well, then tell him how you’re doing and what you’ve been up to. And sneak in a compliment. What do you like about him?”

Heat rose to Mingi’s cheeks. “This again?”

“Yes, it’s important. Compliments are perfectly appropriate between friends, but you can also use them to subtly show your affection.” Mingi shivered. Showing affection sounded like disaster and ridicule waiting to happen. Yeosang placed his magazine on the coffee table. “Be honest. Is it his looks?”

Mingi considered. “No, not just that. I mean, obviously he’s handsome and all. He has a really nice smile. But that’s not why I like him.”

“Is it something he says or does?”

“I don’t know…no. Maybe. I can’t really put my finger on it.”

“Then what’s so special about him?” Yeosang insisted. “What sets him apart from everyone else?”

Mingi looked up at the ceiling. “He’s Yunho. He blushes in the morning when he wakes up and he tugs on his earlobes when he thinks about something. His eyes sparkle when he smiles. He becomes super talkative and slurs his words when he’s drunk. His ears turn red when he’s embarrassed or angry and he stumbles over his words when he’s flustered. He can go on and on about random historical events for hours and will apologize for rambling afterward. He always finds a way to bring happiness to the little things. He knows just what to say when he needs to comfort someone, and he effortlessly makes people feel safe around him. He makes my heartbeat at the speed of light and every emotion I feel, joy, sadness, love, anger, jealousy, excitement - they all become a thousand times more intense when it’s about him. I just never had that with anyone else.” He hadn’t noticed when he’d started smiling, but he was grinning like a fool. Mingi rarely put these thoughts into words because…well, it was embarrassing. And it was really hard to explain just how endearing and meaningful those little things were to Mingi. He thought for a moment, then he sat up and faced Yeosang. “For example, you,” he continued. “You’re pretty too. You look delicate and elegant, and you’re smart as well. You’re like royalty or something. Kinda like a prince.”

“I mean…thanks.” Yeosang blushed deeply. “Your point being?”

“If we kissed, you and I,” Mingi continued. “I just know it wouldn’t be the same. There wouldn’t be this magical feeling that I get with Yunho, you know?”

He chuckled. “I would hope not.”

“I don’t know how to explain it…”

Yeosang shook his head and smiled. “That’s exactly it, isn’t it? The fact that he makes you feel all of those things is what you like about him.” He got to his feet and sat on the floor next to the couch Mingi lay on. “You love him, don’t you?”

Mingi’s cheeks grew warm. “I…”

Yeosang interrupted him by wrapping his arms around him in a quick hug. He looked excited when he pulled away. Mingi had no clue what the hell was going on. “Now you just need to put it on paper.”

“Are you insane?! I’m not writing him a love letter!”

“You just poured out your heart to me about how you truly feel about him! Why not tell him all of that? He’d be blown away!”

“I can’t! He’s dating Hongjoong!”

Yeosang crossed his arms. “Is that really what’s stopping you? Or is it because you’re scared?” Mingi averted his eyes. Scared? More like terrified. He didn’t even want to imagine what would happen if he told Yunho how he really felt. What if he didn’t even like him like that anymore? He seemed pretty serious about Hongjoong, after all. They looked happy and comfortable with each other. “Look, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“He could read it…and see how vulnerable he makes me.”

“Mingi. I don’t know how to break this to you, but you need to be honest about your feelings if you really want Yunho.” Yeosang put a hand on Mingi’s shoulder. “You don’t want him to ride off into the sunset with Hongjoong, do you?”

“Certainly not!”

“Then write what you feel! Show him why you’re the one for him! Take his breath away!”

Mingi glanced at the parchment, conflicted. As much as he wanted to follow Yeosang’s advice, something kept holding him back. _Was_ he the one for Yunho? Yunho had already moved on, and Mingi didn’t know if it was such a good idea to hold on to Yunho when Hongjoong was objectively the better choice for him. Did he even have the right to do that at this point?

Silas croaked into the silence and Yeosang sighed. “Think about it at least. You don’t have to write it right now. But remember what I said when you see him on Sunday.”

“Thanks. I will.” Mingi gave him a small smile. He once again rolled up the parchment and put it in his pocket. “Let’s stop talking about that. We always talk about me and Yunho. I still don’t know much about you.”

“I told you, there’s not much to know.”

“Come on, that’s not true,” Mingi insisted. “Why don’t we just play twenty questions.”

Yeosang rolled his eyes but grinned nonetheless. He sat down next to Mingi on the couch, clutching the pillow he’d let float in the air a few minutes ago. “Fine, why not. You go first.”

Once again, Mingi let Silas hop into the palms of his hands. “Butterbeer or Firewhiskey?”

“Butterbeer.”

“Boring. Firewhiskey is the way to go.”

Yeosang shook his head. “It burns my throat too much for comfort. And butterbeer is tastier.”

Mingi laughed. “Whatever. Next question.”

“If you were an animal or magical creature, what would you be?”

“If you laugh, I’ll kill you.”

“Whoa.” Yeosang raised his hands in defeat. “Is it that bad?”

“I’d be…” Mingi hesitated. Yeosang was so going to laugh at him. “I’d be a bunny because they’re fluffy…and cute.”

He dropped his hands. “That’s it? Why would I laugh at that? Bunnies are objectively adorable. I’d be a Niffler though. They’re super sneaky and can literally hide money in their belly folds. It’s incredible.”

Mingi smiled, surprised but glad Yeosang didn’t make fun of him. “We could rob a bank together.”

“Sounds like a plan. We’ll discuss the details next time. Next question.”

“What do you want to do after Hogwarts?”

“Easy. I want to study healing magic. Maybe seek some sort of higher education in it.” Yeosang’s eyes sparkled with excitement as he spoke. “I want to save people’s lives.”

“Very noble. I think it suits you.”

Yeosang’s smile brightened. “Thanks. What about you, Mingi?”

“Me?” He thought for a while as he patted the top of Silas’ tiny head. What _did_ he want to do? “I’m not so sure yet, honestly. There’s nothing I do particularly well,” he admitted. “I do really like taking care of magical creatures though.”

“I’m sure there’s something you could do with that. You could become a dragon tamer or something.”

Mingi thought of Hongjoong and grimaced. “I’d rather go for something less…fiery instead.”

“Fair. Do you have siblings?”

“No, but I wish I did. I would love to have an older sibling to ask for advice.” Mingi paused for a minute to come up with the next question. When he finally thought of one, he didn’t expect it to shift the mood as much as it did. “What’s your greatest fear?”

Yeosang’s smile fell. His eyes widened and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “That’s…complicated. I think I’ll pass on this one if you don’t mind...”

“Sorry,” said Mingi promptly. He couldn’t deny how curious Yeosang’s reaction had made him, but he decided not to push the topic. What could scare a guy like Yeosang enough to make him this uneasy by simply thinking about it? _No, Mingi. Think. Ask him something positive._ “Uh, how did you and Wooyoung become best friends?”

It worked. The mention of Wooyoung brought a small smile back to Yeosang’s lips. “I don’t even remember, really. I’ve known him since forever. Our parents went to Hogwarts together and moved into the same neighborhood later on, so we practically grew up together. He’s like a brother to me.”

Mingi smiled. “That’s nice. Actually, San is like that to me too. He’s the brother I always wished I had.”

“What’s an aspect of your childhood that you’re glad you left in the past?”

“The days I went to muggle school.”

Yeosang seemed surprised. “Really? Why?”

“I didn’t know I was a wizard, but strange things kept happening to me. I used to get punished all the time for things that I didn’t mean to do. The other kids always made fun of me for being weird and different. Some of them were even scared of me. My parents didn’t know what to do either, of course. They had no idea magic existed, or that I was oozing with it.”

“That sounds really tough. I’m sorry.”

Mingi waved off. “It’s in the past. It all got a thousand times better once I started going to Hogwarts. I love it here.”

“Me too.”

“Next question. How many boyfriends did you have before Jongho?”

Yeosang blushed once again. Maybe Mingi could’ve phrased that better. “Um, only one.”

“What? Seriously?”

“Yeah. He…wasn’t that great.” He looked uncomfortable again and Mingi felt horrible for asking all the wrong questions. “What about you?”

“None…I never looked at anyone but Yunho. And I didn’t even realize that until it was too late.” Mingi didn’t mean to sound bitter. But it was a fact that would probably never stop haunting him.

“It’s not too late, I promise,” said Yeosang. “And I’ll help you make him your first, okay.” Mingi smiled. Where had Yeosang been all this time? “Anyway. Chocolate Frogs or Every Flavor Beans?”

“Chocolate Frogs, obviously.” Mingi reached into his chest pocket where he always kept a supply of them. “Want one?”

Yeosang laughed. “Sure. I love them too. Every Flavor Beans could never.”

Minutes and hours ticked by and they soon lost count of how many questions they’d asked each other or when they’d exceeded twenty. They simply continued until late into the night, laughing about the silly ones and getting sappy about the deeper ones. Mingi didn’t have a care in the world. He even let Yeosang hold Silas once. Obviously, it was nothing like the times he’d spent with Yunho, but he was happy to find trust and comfort in his new friend.

**Friday, January 6th. 08:42PM. Snowshill, Gloucestershire, 24 West End Lane, Wooyoung** **’s bedroom. Jung Wooyoung.**

Back in the safety of Wooyoung’s bedroom, he and San distracted themselves with video games. They played _Reckless Velocity_ again, though this time, their clothes stayed on. The spook from earlier still lingered on Wooyoung’s mind, yet he tried his best to put it off as paranoia. The possibility of those people being after him again was too scary to deal with right now. He’d only drive himself crazy.

San didn’t say anything about it either. After he’d returned from the garage, he didn’t say much in general, seemingly lost in his thoughts. Wooyoung didn’t want to intrude on them. Still, in the middle of a round, Wooyoung snuck a glance at him. San sat right next to him on the bed, his legs stretched out casually in front of him as he eagerly mashed the buttons on his controller. Whenever his in-game vehicle bent, he leaned his torso in the direction he wanted it to go, squinting at the screen and biting down on his lip in concentration. Wooyoung never got tired of his handsome side profile.

Despite the distraction, Wooyoung won the round. He lazily stretched his arms. San sat back and chucked away his controller. He smiled at him softly. “Cuddle break?”

Wooyoung smiled back. “Yes, please.”

San scooted closer and wrapped an arm around Wooyoung, pulling him against his chest. Wooyoung let him and relaxed into the embrace. San let a hand pat gently over Wooyoung’s hair. Though his worries didn’t completely melt away in San’s arms, they certainly made them seem a lot less scary. As long as San was with him, he wouldn’t get hurt. He wasn’t as defenseless as he had been last time. Neither of them were. No matter who or what it was that was undeniably trying to disrupt their peace had to get through both of them this time.

After several minutes of silence, San was first to speak up. “Your Legilimency skills have gotten a lot better.”

Wooyoung looked up at him, confused. He wasn’t quite sure where that had suddenly come from. “I guess, yeah.”

Another pause followed, then San spoke up again. “You know,” he said.” I’ve been thinking. Maybe you should actively try to improve them.”

Wooyoung raised his brows. “What, so I can comply with your every wish without you having to say anything.”

San chuckled. “Not necessarily. Though I wouldn’t exactly complain about that.” He turned serious again. “But you never know when you might need them for something important. To protect yourself for example.”

Wooyoung finally read between the lines. “It probably wouldn’t hurt to practice a little.” They shifted on Wooyoung’s bed until they sat cross-legged across from each other. Wooyoung took San’s hands. “What now?”

“I don’t know. You’re the Legilimens. Take a look into my mind and tell me what I’m thinking or something.” Wooyoung shrugged and did just that. He let his own spirit reach out to San’s and tapped into his mind. It was so much easier than it had been the first time he did it. Back then he’d had to muster up a lot of focus, now it felt perfectly natural. “ _Kiss me if I_ _’m wrong, but you absolutely can’t read my mind right now._ ”

Wooyoung grinned and pressed a soft kiss to San’s lips. “I have to admit that was kind of smooth.”

“I’m always smooth.” San pointed out and intertwined their fingers. “That was too easy, though. What else can you do?”

Wooyoung thought for a moment. “Remember how I sent you a message and visuals of my location back when I was kidnapped? I could try that again.”

“Right. That was an essential hint.” San’s smile was bittersweet. “I wouldn’t have known where to look if you hadn’t done that.”

“Don’t say that. I know you would’ve found a way. You always do.”

“So do you.”

Wooyoung squeezed San’s hand, then he straightened his posture and closed his eyes. He tried to recall how he’d done this last time. An odd, chilling feeling took over his body as he let his own spirit detach from himself and reached out to San’s. Letting his own soul momentarily become one with someone else’s and mentally latching onto them felt beyond strange, yet pleasant somehow. It felt as if they had become one; Wooyoung no longer knew where his soul ended and where San’s began. He could only wonder what it was like for San. Did San feel his presence? Was it uncomfortable for him?

Wooyoung wasn’t sure what kind of mental picture to show San, so he settled for an image of the two of them playing Quidditch together a few hours ago. As for the message, he added, “ _I love you_.” He felt like this too was a lot easier than last time. Firstly because Wooyoung had had no clue how to use his powers back then, and secondly because he and San weren’t miles apart right now.

They opened their eyes. “Did it work?” asked Wooyoung.

“I love you too,” was all San said.

Wooyoung grinned proudly. “Can I try something else?”

“Of course.”

Excited, Wooyoung once again closed his eyes and repeated the process. Only this time, he delved even deeper into San’s mind, deeper than the thoughts and emotions. He was pulled into a part of his mind, where his memories and deep-rooted desires lay hidden. It felt ecstatic, how the magic pulsed through both of them. Various memories appeared all around Wooyoung like short clips. Some of them Wooyoung recognized as he was a part of them, others looked unfamiliar. In a way, it was like flipping through TV channels. Wooyoung reached out to one particular memory that caught his attention. Wooyoung hadn’t seen it before. The closer he got to it, _the clearer it began to materialize around him._

_Through San_ _’s eyes, Wooyoung was able to observe everything that happened. He found himself in the body of a much younger version of San. Little San pulled his luggage up a long spiral of stone stairs. The walls held torches that burned with emerald green flames and gave the staircase a mysterious gloom. Wooyoung recognized them from the few times he’d been to the Slytherin Common Room._

_Struggling with his heavy baggage, little San finally reached the top of the staircase and pushed open the wooden door that was more than twice his size. He stumbled into a wide room furnished with a dozen beds and a square fountain-looking construction its center. Only one other person stood by one of the beds on the left half of the room, a young boy little San_ _’s age. He was taller than San, and his brown hair curled against his forehead, reaching into his eyes as he observed San with mutual curiosity. His luggage lay open on the emerald bedsheets, clothes spilling out of it left and right._

_“Is this the first-year boys’ dorm?” asked San. The boy nodded wordlessly. San breathed a sigh of relief. “Awesome.” He dragged his luggage to the free bed and regarded him with a smile. “Mind if I take this bed?”_

_The boy shook his head._ _“N-No.”_

_San thanked him, heaved his luggage onto the bed, and opened it._ _“What’s your name?”_

_“Mingi.”_

_“Nice to meet you. I’m San.” He held out his hand. “Let’s be friends.”_

_A huge smile spread on little Mingi_ _’s face and he enthusiastically shook San’s hand._

_Wooyoung looked around. His surroundings had become blurry, colors fading to gray as the scene in front of him dissolved. He severed the connection to San_ and opened his eyes to find himself back in his bedroom in the present time.

“Unbelievable! What did you do?” San’s eyes were wide with amazement. “You were right there, in my head!”

“I went through some of your memories and saw you and Mingi in your first night at Hogwarts!” Wooyoung laughed. “You two were so cute!”

“You’re incredible.” San shook his head, grinning. This was fun. Wooyoung felt high off using his magic. He’d improved so much since he’d gotten his Legilimency skills a month ago. Unfortunately, his high spirits came to a hard stop when San brought up the next step. “Let’s try one last thing. I want you to make me do something.”

His smile faltered. “Make you do something? You mean…mind-control? Compulsion?”

“Pretty much,” said San. Wooyoung disliked the idea. The mere fact that he had the ability to use Legilimency to do something so immoral made him uncomfortable. He’d done it before, a month ago when he’d attempted to escape captivity, and he’d already felt guilty about it back then. “Look, I know how you feel about that, I know. But think about it. Mastering that ability would be undeniably useful in an emergency situation.”

Wooyoung considered him for a few seconds, then he sighed. As much as he wanted to deny it, he knew San was right. If something were to happen, being able to use compulsion would give him a huge advantage. Still, he’d only use it as a last resort. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

San moved a strand of hair out of Wooyoung’s face. “It’ll be worth it in the end.”

This time, Wooyoung didn’t close his eyes. Using Legilimency to control someone else’s mind required continuous eye-contact. Other than that, the process felt similar. Wooyoung stared into San’s eyes as he moved past San’s thoughts, emotions, and memories and focused on bending his free will. Once he succeeded, something in San’s eyes changed. His gaze turned somewhat glassy and compelled, as if someone had flicked a switch inside of him.

Wooyoung didn’t like seeing him like this at all. That empty look in his eyes reminded him too much of the very image he tried his best to ban from his memory. _I want you to press a kiss to my cheek_ , he commanded. San complied his command, though the kiss was void of any emotion. It didn’t make Wooyoung’s skin tingle with warmth like it usually would. It wasn’t real, it wasn’t truly San. Goosebumps all over, Wooyoung broke the spell.

As soon as San came to, he shook his head. “That was too easy. Kissing your cheek is something I like to do anyway.”

Wooyoung crossed his arms. “So?”

“So, the real challenge should lie in making me do something I don’t want to do, something I normally would never do.”

He rolled his eyes. “And what do you suggest I do? Make you jump off the roof?”

“Of course not, baby. I was thinking we could try something less extreme.” But even after minutes of discussion, they couldn’t come up with anything safe enough to try. Instead, Wooyoung reluctantly suggested doing it again and using his power to make San pick up a book. To make things difficult, San would try his best to bring up the mental effort to fight against Wooyoung’s compulsion.

“Just so you know, I hate this.”

San placed the book in question on the sheets between them. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Wooyoung took a deep breath and repeated the process. San’s eyes turned glassy, and Wooyoung regained control over him. He tried not to shudder.

 _Pick up the book,_ he commanded. To his surprise, San didn’t. He really was trying his best to resist, eyebrows furrowed and face stern. Wooyoung repeated the command. _Pick it up. Now._

San resisted. All Wooyoung got was a headache.

Eventually, he severed the connection, causing San to let go of a breath he’d been holding. “That was hard. You almost got me.”

“Really? It looked like I wasn’t getting to you at all.”

“Trust me, you did,” San assured him. “A few seconds longer and I might’ve picked up that book. Can you try one more time?”

Despite his headache, Wooyoung nodded. “I think so.”

The process took Wooyoung a little longer this time. He had to focus hard to even get deep enough into San’s mind. _Just pick up the damn book._ Nothing. He repeated the command but put more force into it. Wooyoung felt like a broken record at this point.

After the fourth attempt, San’s hand inched toward the book, then he slowly pulled it back again. Wooyoung’s headache intensified. He suddenly felt lightheaded. When he could no longer hold up the connection, he broke the spell a third time and almost toppled over.

San promptly grabbed his shoulders to stabilize him. “Whoa, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Wooyoung held his throbbing head. “Just a little dizzy.”

“Let’s stop here.” San gently pushed him into the soft sheets, making him lie down. He looked concerned but mustered a smile. “You did great.”

Wooyoung scoffed. “I couldn’t even get you to pick it up, though.”

“That’s only because I have exceptional willpower.” San’s chest swelled with confidence.

Wooyoung heaved a sigh. “I’m too exhausted to get annoyed about your multi-talentedness.”

San pressed a kiss to Wooyoung’s forehead and pulled the duvet over his body, tucking him in. “Rest. I’ll get you some orange juice. I’m sure you could use some sugar.”

“Thanks.”

With that, San slid off the bed and headed for the door. He’d already grabbed the knob when he halted and turned around one last time. He looked at Wooyoung, trying and failing to bite back a smirk.

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow at him. “What is it?”

San shook his head and pointed at his forehead as if to tell Wooyoung to read the answer in his mind. Wooyoung grinned and rolled his eyes as he tapped into San’s mind. He was exasperated by his findings.

“ _I could get used to this sight. You, exhausted in our bed_.”

Wooyoung opened his mouth to retort something but San had already slipped out the door. He let his head fall back into the pillows. Choi San was unbelievable. Exhausting, but unbelievable.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> This work is also available on Wattpad! If you'd like to read it there, this is the link:  
> https://www.wattpad.com/story/250113118-timeless-ii
> 
> Feel free to follow/tweet at me via @vitaminjongho on twitter ~


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